


No Remedy For Memory

by Ookami_Hime



Series: Not the Standard Unit [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Agent Carter References, American History, Anal Fingering, Aromantic Natasha Romanov, Battle of New York (Marvel), Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Peggy Carter, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Civil Rights Movement, Emotional Infidelity, Emotional Sex, F/F, F/M, Gay Rights, Grief/Mourning, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Marathon Sex, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Police Brutality, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red Scare, Reunions, Secret Relationship, September 11 Attacks, Shower Sex, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 115,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6343192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ookami_Hime/pseuds/Ookami_Hime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"And there's no remedy for memory,</i><br/><i>Your face is like a melody, it won't leave my head,</i><br/><i>Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine,</i><br/><i>But I wish I was dead, dead like you." <b>--Lana Del Rey</b></i>, <b>"Dark Paradise"</b></p><p>Or, what do you do when both your soul mates are gone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1945

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, for the many people who have supported me on both here and on my Tumblr page, I want to thank all of you so much. Honestly, without your support, I never would've finished the first story, let alone make a sequel and have even more parts of the series added to it. Thank you so much. None of you are ever gonna know how much I truly love all of you guys.  
> If you're new to this story, you're going to have to read the very first part of the series, _Old World Romance_ , to understand what's going on.  
> For those of you who aren't new or read through the story in like a few days just now, then you'll be seeing Quinn's story over the decades between when Steve and Bucky go down in the ice and when Steve wakes up before the events of The Avengers. I'll be adding tags and relationships as I go because I'm a sneaky lil' shit and love doing that to you guys.  
> So, without further delay, here you go!

**1945.**

It’d been a pretty damn nice hotel that the SSR set them up in—well, they planned to have Pegs up in it actually, but no one seemed to ask questions about why she had upgraded the room from the basic to a room with two beds. Quinn couldn’t help but have a bad case of rubberneck as the plane landed, while the two of them snatched a taxi, and while they rode to their hotel which was in the heart of New York City. Sure, London was about the same size, could be even a little bit bigger, so a person would think that she’d be used to it, but…a small town nobody like her is bound to have their breath taken away by any super city and that’s no exception to New York. 

 

After they’d paid the taxi driver, checked in at the front desk, and walked up to their room, the second that Quinn closed the door behind them, her best friend took a deep breath and then dropped face-first onto one of the beds while she groaned in relief. Quinn couldn't help but huff out a laugh because as hard a lady that Pegs was and as many plane trips that she had taken over the course of the war, the rides still kicked her ass in the sense that she needed to sleep hours and hours to recover. 

 

“You’ve never answered my question,” Peggy’s voice was muffled by the sheets, so she rolled over onto her back, and yawned loudly before she clarified, “What the dessert is for.” She didn't even look over at Quinn, her eyes had started to droop, but she waved her hand in the direction of the pie that she knew Quinn had in her hands—had in her possession since they left Hazard. 

 

“I have an errand to run. Got some people to see,” is the most she could offer up at the moment. “Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be back later and then we can head out for supper.” Pegs leaned up on her elbows, exhaustion plain as day on her face, but also a stern and worried look too. Quinn shot the other woman her own tired smile. “I have to do this and I’ll talk when I come back.” _Maybe_ , she didn’t add, because she wasn’t so sure what her emotional state would be after her errand. 

 

Pegs didn’t much like to hear that, but Quinn hadn’t let her have any choice in the matter, so she settled back into bed. Quinn, at the very least, waited until Pegs drifted off to sleep before she left the hotel. She sat at the little table in the room and stared out the window at Times Square, more numb and numb as time passed. Before she could settle into that headspace, she noticed that her roommate was asleep, so Quinn stood up and walked out of the room as quiet as she could. 

 

Had someone that _knew_ her been with her at the moment, they’d be scared by how patient she was, but Quinn was somewhere between readiness and dread, so she took her time. When she hailed another taxi, she handed the piece of paper she had clutched in her hand underneath the dish—the worst one Ma had that she could stand to see handed over forever. For all the driver knew, the stains on the paper were water, and not the tears that Quinn had shed while she scoured paperwork for those addresses. The pictures had really torn her up. 

 

“Which one you want me to take yah to?” the driver drawled. 

 

The past month had been a real blur, so it was hard to remember which address was which, but she went with, “Um, the second one, I think? Please?” 

 

Once the taxi had parked in front of an apartment place—or so she hoped—she then asked for directions to the other address because she had no idea whether the door would be slammed shut in her face here or not. After he’d rattled them out to her and she paid him, she took a deep breath, tried to calm her nerves, and walked into the building. She checked her paper one more time to see the apartment number and then started her hike up the stairs while her hands shook, palms sweat, and heart hurt.  

 

It took her ten minutes, she reckoned, to muster of the bravery to knock on that door. From the other side, inside the apartment, there was a shout of, “Got it, Ma!” Quinn tried to soften up her expression because she either looked dead inside or nervous as shit and that wasn’t the best first impression. When the door opened, a little lady—who had to be about the same age as Liam, Quinn guessed, maybe a bit older—was on the other side and it took Quinn’s all not to drop the pie and run. It was hard to look at her, not when she looked so much like her older brother. 

 

“Rebecca?” Quinn assumed quietly and her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat, and tried to explain, “I, um, I’m not sure that you—well, you probably know me from the pictures and the papers? But I can introduce myself anyhow. Yeah, that'd be better. My name is—” 

 

“Quinn,” Rebecca breathed out and she blinked rapidly in surprise. Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes, but she wiped at them quickly, and then held out a hand to Quinn, a sign to stay. Rebecca quickly demanded, “Wait here, yeah? I’ll…I need to…Ma!” she then shouted and turned around to dart back into the apartment. “Pop! You both needs to come here now!” 

 

Okay, not too bad a start, but Quinn had been told that Rebecca was a sweetheart and she wasn’t no kind of protective momma or daddy. Aw, hell, what the fuck was Quinn doing here? This was no kind of place for her. Still, she couldn’t move, not now, and she did as Rebecca said, stood there in the doorway, eyes dropped down to her feet. It wasn’t until she saw another pair of heels in her line of vision that she looked back up.  

 

Missus Winifred Barnes and Mister George Barnes stood in front of her, Winifred in the very front and George behind her, a protective hand on his wife’s shoulder. Winifred stared at Quinn, hand over her mouth, and tears in her eyes. 

 

Quinn swallowed hard and held out the pie, tried not to cry as she started her very practiced speech of, “Mister and Missus Barnes, I…I’m real sorry that I came and showed up here unannounced, so my…my Ma said I should make you this to say sorry for the unexpected visit. You can keep the dish. Oh, and it’s apple pie. And ‘m sorry if it don’t taste the best ‘cause it’s been on the plane with me and it took a little while to make it here.” Winifred, still stunned, at least took the pie from Quinn which was a…nice sign? Maybe? “I…I was in town and I wanted to meet y’all. My name is Quinn Hayden and I…I was—“ 

 

“You were my Bucky’s and you were Steve’s, too,” Winifred whispered and Quinn couldn’t blink back her tears quick enough. Much like Rebecca, she wiped at them, but Winifred didn’t with hers, and she reached out to wrap her arms around Quinn, like she was an old member of the family and not the fucked up soulmate of her dead son. “Welcome to Brooklyn. It’s so nice to meet you, Quinn.” Quinn sobbed and shoved her face into Winifred’s shoulder, in so much pain and so damn mortified at the same time because she couldn’t control herself. “I know, sweetheart,” Winifred choked out. “I miss him, too. I miss them both so much.” 

 

 

 

Lunch with Missus Winnie, Mister George, and Becca had been nice—once their tears were shed, anyway. George escorted her back down to the street, wrapped her up in his arms in a hug that reminded her too much of her own pa, and then slipped her a key. “No one should mind you,” he explained after he’d told her the exact same directions as the taxi driver. “Someone tries to say somethin’, you tell ‘em I sent you, and you take your time and take what you need from there.” 

 

“Thank you, Mister Barnes,” she replied thickly. 

 

“George, Quinn,” he corrected and rubbed her back soothingly. “You can leave that under the rock outside the door when you’re done.” She nodded, hugged him one more time which startled him but he returned it, and then headed down the street, in the direction he’d sent her. 

 

It took no time at all to make it there, and soon, Quinn opened the door up to another apartment, but…there’d be no one inside this one. A shoebox place, no doubt about it, but she’d listened to the people who’d rented it talk so much about their life and times in it that it’d seemed like a mansion to her—because any place with them would’ve been a palace, so long as they were there—and she had dreamed about the day she would be able to walk inside with them and she’d known she would be the luckiest gal in the world. 

 

There was a stale smell in the air and a thin layer of dust had settled everywhere in the apartment. Whatever food there’d been was thrown out and there were no pots, pans, or any other essentials people needed for homes. Shit that could’ve been used, that wasn’t too personal, had been cleared out, no surprise there. 

 

Sketches were pinned to the walls, unfinished designs for whatever freelance work could be found that’d brought in money, others of places across New York that someone deemed so nice to hang it up—she snorted when she thought about how they probably argued over putting the pictures on the wall. She couldn’t help but trace the tips of her fingers over the pieces of paper, try to remember what the hands that drew them felt like against her skin. 

 

There were two separate beds that’d been made, but there was dust that’d settled on the sheets, too. Whatever clothes there were to be found didn't have a smell anymore and she didn’t even care that someone could walk in and see her, red-handed, with a shirt pressed to her face. She took a seat on the edge of one of the beds and carefully tugged out the chain that’d been around her neck since the day it was given to her. 

 

 _Rogers, Steven G_ and _Barnes, James B_ —her thumb traced the indent of each metal tag. “Guess you two came home after all,” she gritted out, a fresh batch of tears in her eyes, then clutched the tags between her hands and pressed them to her forehead. 

 

Her soulmates…they’d dreamed about the day they’d make it home to Brooklyn, and here they were now. A goddamn dream come true, wasn't it? Of course, it didn’t count where it should’ve, didn’t count one good goddamn bit, because all there was to them now was the metal tags in her hands that they’d pressed their own fingers against from time to time in order to admire their—now broken—promises to her. Oh, and there was an imprint of them in her heart, on her soul, a shadow that would be with her until the day she died. 

 

“Welcome home,” she said to two dead men who would never hear it, as she clutched their names in her hands, and she wept. 

 

 

 

“You should’ve let me come with you to see them,” Peggy scolded once Quinn told her about the _errands_ that she ran. "Also, you've only just arrived to the city and you shouldn't walk around by yourself without someone who's already been here for some time. I understand if you wanted to talk to them alone, but—"  

 

Quinn crawled into her too empty bed and sprawled out, too damn tired to deal with a lecture. “It was somethin’ I had to do alone,” she explained and made sure her tone said that was that. 

 

Pegs, of course, didn't mind to heed her tone. “You don't have to do this alone.” 

 

It didn't happen too often, but Pegs wasn't right, not this time. Quinn _did_ have to do this alone now because the two people who were supposed to be in it with her were dead—one buried at the bottom of a mountain and the other out at sea. "You don't have to baby me," she shot back, not really mean about it, more of a bland statement. 

 

"I don't know how many times I have to explain this before you understand," Peggy breathed out, frustrated, as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. "It's called _caring_ about you, Quinn, _not_ babying. Please learn the difference." 

 

Quinn, who'd shoved her face into the pillow, turned her head to the side so she could peek at Pegs and the smiled a little. "Never," she teased. 

 

\--- 

 

There used to be two heartbeats that Quinn fell asleep to and woke up to and now there were none except her own and, most times nowadays, it seemed like that didn't work the best either. The silence, when she went to bed, had been the hardest part to deal with since the end of the war. When she went home to Hazard, she'd been sure she would've been sent to the madhouse by Ma and Pa if she didn't learn to stop her screams when she woke up from the nightmares. 

 

Pa…he used to tell her and Liam stories as kids, stories passed down from him by his Irish kin before he moved on to Kentucky. Quinn remembered the story of the _slua_ who were spirits of sinners or evil, evil people, too restless to completely move on, who didn't have a place in any kind of world whether that place be for human or any other kind of creature. The _slua_ prowled the world, searched for other innocent souls, caused all sorts of trouble and destruction. Sometimes, she was sure that she had become one of them, destined to ruin any person she tried to love, stuck alone in the world but not ever a part of it. Without the heartbeats there with her, stuck in the silence, how could she ever know anymore if she was ever really here? It scared her so much, not to know, and that's what woke her up most nights. 

 

Third day into her stay in New York and she'd had a bad one—a woke up, scream stuck there in her throat, but couldn't hold back the whimper bad one. Quinn shivered and shook, moved to sit up in bed, tried to catch her breath, and also tried to hold back her tears. 

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Peggy turn over onto her side and lean up on an elbow. "I'm sorry," Quinn croaked out and rubbed her sweaty forehead. "I'm sorry," she repeated and turned to look over at Pegs, tried to look a little ashamed about this, even if she was so tired it sunk down to her bones. The last time she had a decent amount of sleep had been _months_ ago. 

 

"Shove over," Pegs suddenly ordered and rolled out of her own bed. Quinn blinked in surprise and then opened her mouth to protest, but the brunette cut her off with a sharp, "Oh, shut up. I would appreciate a decent night's rest and you could use it yourself. Swallow your pride for once and take my bloody help." 

 

She snapped her mouth shut and then grumbled out a, "Fine." She scooted over in her bed to make some room for the other woman. "You should've told me I was keepin' you up, y'know. I would've holed up in another room or somethin'." The two of them settled back into bed and she turned onto her side to look at her best friend. "I'm real sorry, Pegs. I'm more trouble than I'm worth." 

 

"You're trouble," Peggy agreed, but then slipped her arms around Quinn and moved in close. "But you're worth it," she added sleepily and closed her eyes. Quinn could feel Peggy's breath fan out across her face and Pegs scooched in a little to tuck her head underneath Quinn's chin.  

 

For the very first time since it'd broken to pieces, Quinn's heart raced inside her chest, and she suddenly realized that she was in _a lot_ of fucking trouble. 

 

\--- 

 

Look, no doubt about it, Margaret Carter was a complete and total knockout, and she could admit that whether she was in a relationship or not. Hell, _anyone_ with a pair of eyes could see that Pegs was a dream. Before…whatever she had with them—before she was committed to other people, it wasn't like she didn't have thoughts about what it'd be like with Peggy. Hell, even _in_ her relationship, she'd had thoughts about what it would've been like to add a fourth person to the mix. Lord knows that there was plenty enough room in their hearts for more people to love. 

 

But…It was Quinn now—no, wait. No. It was Quinn and Pegs, actually. Honest, it'd been like that since she started with the SSR. Aside from Josie, Peggy was the best friend that Quinn ever had, understood Quinn better than anyone aside from her soulmates and, with them dead, Pegs was probably the only person in the world now that knew what Quinn felt. In…her own special way, Pegs was…sort of a soulmate to Quinn, too. After all, these rough days, the sole person to keep Quinn sane, to help keep her head above the water, to help warm her insides and heart up that she was scared might freeze up forever was—no surprise—Peggy. 

 

It seemed bound to happen, that Quinn would start to think about what it'd be like to kiss the other woman, think about the noises she'd make if Quinn pressed her down into the mattress, stripped her clothes away, and screwed her within an inch of her life. Somehow, without even realizing it, Peggy had suddenly put this…fire inside Quinn's veins and she'd had to sneak into the bathroom a few times when clenching her thighs together in bed didn't work no more. 

 

Other than the whole thinking about fucking her best friend, which Pegs was thankfully unaware of, Quinn started to actually have a little bit of fun. There were some places she absolutely won't want to see—Coney Island, mostly, and she didn't want to be near Brooklyn until she decided to see the Barnes clan again—but it was nice, what else she saw. She could see why people loved New York City so much. 

 

In a little diner, while the two of them shared a slice of pie, Peggy smiled warmly at Quinn and said, "Thank you for coming here with me. I know it must've been hard to leave your home and your family and it seemed that all Steve and James could talk about at times was this city, so it was no easy request." 

 

Quinn put her fork down and sighed. "If it'd been anyone else who asked me, I would've slammed the door in their face, did y'know that? I don't think I would've ever stepped a foot in this city unless I had to."  

 

"What makes me so special?" Peggy wondered. 

 

She knew that it was meant to be a joke, but Quinn couldn't help but blurt out, "Did you know that my best friend moved to Louisville?" Peggy raised a brow and Quinn's cheeks turned red. "Um, while I was overseas, she…I guess she moved on. I'm happy for her. She…she really needed it—" 

 

"And was this the woman you loved before the war?" She tried to shush the other woman and Peggy coughed. "Yes, of course, you're right. We're in public. But I am right, aren't I?" Quinn meekly nodded. "And what does this have to do with anything?" 

 

"My point was," she started nervously and fiddled with her fork, let it clank against the plate. "Josie 'n me, we started to drift, even before I shipped out, but now she's gone and she'll move on probably, so you're the best… _best_ friend I have these days. What I mean to say is that you're one of the most important people in my life now." She reached her hands down, wiped her sweaty palms against her dress, and admitted, "I'd do anything for you." 

 

"Don't say that, Quinn, it's a very dangerous thing to admit to me," Peggy warned and it sounded like a tease, but it didn't reach her eyes all the way, so she was pretty sure that Pegs was serious about it.  

 

Quinn shrugged. "You're not a bastard like Howard, so I think I'll be okay." She pointed at Peggy's plate that had half a slice of pie on it still. "Are you gonna finish that or you just about to let it go to waste?" 

 

She tried not to notice how Peggy stared at her the rest of the day. 

 

\--- 

 

It was bound to come to a head. 

 

Ever since the diner, there had been this…tension between the two of them. Quinn tried to pretend it wasn't there because she was scared she'd messed up the last decent friendship she had with someone, but she'd fucked it up with Josie, so why wouldn't she do the same damn thing with Peggy, too? 

 

The two of them stood in the middle of their room, dressed for sleep, but neither of them had actually moved to crawl into bed. Quinn had come out of the bathroom and Peggy had stood there and stared. It'd made her so nervous that she couldn't move after that. 

 

Oh, fuck it. 

 

Quinn, without a word, walked up to stand close to Peggy and, quickly losing her burst of courage, leaned in to kiss the other woman—a shy kiss, maybe couldn't even be considered a kiss since it was a mere brush of their lips. She leaned away and knew that she'd went and done ruined one of the last good things she had in the world. 

 

Pegs continued to stare, but now looked into Quinn's eyes. For a few scary minutes, she stared, and then whispered, "You—" she paused to think a little bit more before she explained, "We shouldn't do this, you know. It isn't fair to anyone in the situation, present or otherwise." 

 

Now, no one had ever said Quinn was the smartest tool in the shed, but even she could understand what it looked like from the other side of the picture. Jesus Christ, it hadn't even been two months since she lost them. "I know it's not, I _know_. I'm a horrible, rotten person inside, I know that too, and I've told you that I am before, haven't I?" She stepped back in close again so she could brush her lips back over the brunette's, feel the warmth and proof of life. She was _here_ and she was interacting with another living human being. "But…I…" She swallowed hard. "Fuck, I don't even know if you like ladies and this is fucked up, Isn't it?" But, she had noticed, Pegs hadn't tried to scramble away in disgust or punched her in the face—which Pegs would definitely do—so, to make sure, she whispered, "Tell me to scram and I will, I promise. You won't ever have to see my face again." 

 

"Oh, Quinn," she breathed out and her hands trailed down to settle on Quinn's hips. "I don't think I could, even if I wanted to." She reached a hand up to brush hair away from Quinn's face, then let her palm settle on Quinn's cheek. "You know I care for you so dearly. You're one of the most important people in my life, too." 

 

It amazed her, to feel her heart race inside her chest again. Pegs leaned forward to close the space between them and Quinn moved her arms around the other woman, let her hands roam across the expanse of Peggy's back, and by God, it was perfect. It was fantastic. "Peggy—I—" There was _something_ that she had to say, she knew it. Maybe she needed to back out because the last thing Pegs deserved was her sorry ass. But she couldn't concentrate. "Pegs, I—" 

 

"Please shut up and don't think anymore," Peggy ordered quietly against her mouth as she slowly started to back Quinn up toward the bed. 

 

Finally, _finally_ , Quinn's mind went quiet. 

 

\--- 

 

The Sunday before Quinn had to ship out, she brushed her lips over Peggy's, the two of them naked and sated, and murmured shyly, "It'd be nice to have someone watch my back over there." Pegs snorted at the really bad attempt and Quinn's face turned red. "And I'm sure Phillips could use some pull and let you come with us for a little bit...at least until Hydra's taken care of?" 

 

"I don't think I'm quite ready to give you up," Peggy declared after seemingly thinking on it for a minute or two. "I'd love to come with you to, as you would say, _kick Nazi ass_." The southern accent was…actually not half bad… 

 

Quinn grinned and kissed her again. 

 

\--- 

 

It hadn't been the same, but she knew it wouldn't be. She'd hoped that the whole team would be there with them, but it was Dum-Dum, Jimmy, Happy, Junior, and Percy who stayed overseas. And only God knew why, but for some reason, the second that she stepped foot back on European land, everyone had decided she was to become the new leader. At least, for the time, she could defer to Peggy for leadership decisions. 

 

On her mission to burn down what little had stuck around of the fuckers who'd ruined her whole world and her future, she'd had an idea. See, it hadn't been her alone that suffered after the war had been supposedly won. There'd been _millions_ more that must've been in the same boat she was, alone in the silence without the other piece—or pieces, in her and maybe a few more other cases—of their soul to complete them. No one should've been as miserable as her, as miserable as the millions and millions of other people who'd loved and lost it all to hatred—not only soulmates, but also family and friends. 

 

Quinn, in the end, wanted to protect the people like Liam and Sophia from the hatred that'd shredded her heart to pieces. 

 

"You want to be a shield," Peggy had said in awe when Quinn whispered the idea into her skin, in the wee hours of the morning, a few hours before they stormed down the last Hydra base. They'd snuck away from the camp for some time to themselves. "Yes, that's perfect." Quinn had never seen it that way herself, but when Pegs put it like that, it…made her sad and proud, but mostly sad. Peggy had nodded and turned to look up at the starry skies above their heads."Let's see what we can do, shall we?" 

 

It had been a swell idea, sure, but it would take a whole lot to make it happen. Pegs, before she headed back to New York after they'd destroyed that last Hydra base, swore that she'd talk to Howard about the idea. It would take money, resources, connections, and a whole bunch of other shit that two ladies in a secret division of the American government didn't have, but they did have a Stark at their backs and they were determined to make the world a better place. 

 

Quinn watched as Peggy's plane departed back for New York and when it was out of sight, she turned around, faced the fellas, and ordered, "Let's get to work." 

 


	2. 1946

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn wonders, not for the first time, why she ever fell in love with them in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Whispers] My God, these chapters keep getting longer and longer. I swear that I never meant it to turn out this way. This story has literally started taking a life of its own. I can't stop it anymore. Good Lord, help me.  
> Anyway, this was meant to be a decade chapter, but that turned out way too massive. The first couple of years on her own basically set the groundwork for the upcoming decades of Quinn's life on her own. I'm sorry if this is boring some of you guys. Believe it or not, this really helps me better establish Quinn's character. I know I'm her creator, but it helps me, I don't know, plan out where her story is headed, if that makes sense.  
> I can't say it for certain, but the chapters should get a little less descriptive until we reach the point where Steve comes out of the ice.  
> Anyway, have a chapter to celebrate the utter wreckage me and all my American readers are gonna get when we go see Civil War!  
> Thanks so much and I love you!

**1946.**

Dum-Dum, the bastard, didn’t even turn to look at Quinn as she threw herself down in the seat beside him. Instead, he continued to shovel food into that smart ass mouth of his, but he did push a second tray of food to the side, in front of her stool. Underneath the tray, where no one could see it, was a bar of chocolate which was the best way he could suck up to her while they were overseas. No one could say Dum-Dum was a complete moron because he’d learned that he needed to attempt to soothe her somehow every time they saw each other after a debrief with the Colonel.

 

“Got your number, asshole,” she snapped and pushed the tray away to instead start in on the chocolate. Dum-Dum dare didn’t try to smile before her rant, but she could see his lips twitch, and she scowled to try and scare him a little. “You don’t respect me,” she continued, mad as hell when this little revelation had dawned on her. “I see it now, you colossal prick. Only reason you and those other sorry bastards put me in lead is ‘cause not a one of y’all want Phillips to drill into your asses, that's all it is. None of you have the balls to stand up to him like I do, so you throw me in the lion den.”

 

The man couldn’t be serious to save his life and, a minute or two after she’d tried to ram his ass like what had been done to her, he started to crack up. “Damn, it was that bad, huh?” he asked as he wiped at his eyes and pulled yet another candy bar out of his pocket to hand to her.

 

Quinn didn’t think twice as she snatched it away from him. “Yeah, it was that damn bad,” she huffed and ducked her head so she had more room to rub at her sore neck. She didn't ache near as much as she did in the actual war, but a person will ache if they sleep bad—but can she even use that excuse anymore since she's never slept well in the past year? “Hey, you think it’d work if I broke out the waterworks on Phillips?”

 

“Nope,” Dum-Dum chirped and clapped her on the shoulder. “Because, believe it or not, Quinn, the man respects you.” She dropped her forehead down onto the table and moaned in exasperation. “And I’m pretty sure he’d see through that in a heartbeat. That’s some nice thinkin’, though,” he commended.

 

The door to the emptied mess hall opened and one of the base’s resident boys called, “Nurse Hayden?” It was hard not to make a face. Quinn and the Commandos hadn’t been on any kind of base for a bit, so she wasn’t as used to nurse as she should’ve been—not to mention that the kind of work she did these days…well, it didn’t require a nurse so much as it needed someone to clean up the bodies. “There’s someone on the horn for you, ma’am. It came from headquarters in New York.”

 

Both Quinn and Dum-Dum, at the same time, scrambled to their feet and Quinn had to practically tackle the man out of her way so she could make it to the phone before him. There was only one person in the SSR New York branch that could have the clearance to make a call to their team—who even knew where their team would be, honest—and you bet your ass she would be the first one to take the call.

 

“Aw, c’mon, Quinn,” Dum-Dum hissed in her ear when she snatched the phone before he had the chance.

 

Quinn winked at him and he pouted in response to which she mouthed _prick_. When he scowled at her, she was surprised he didn't throw a temper tantrum.. She then moved her attention back to the phone and drawled out, “And what exactly did I do to make the most beautiful lady in New York call me?” to the person on the other end of the line.

 

She could admit that the sound of Peggy’s laughter made the butterflies in her stomach flap up a storm. “Hello, my dear,” she greeted and Quinn couldn’t help but preen a little. Other than the letters they tried to write on a regular basis to each other, the last time she’d seen or heard the other woman had been when she’d flown away back to New York nearly a year back. “I wish I could call under better circumstances, but…I have a favor.”

 

“Well,” she blinked and Dum-Dum tried to press in closer which she allowed because there wouldn’t be much privacy needed, she reckoned. “You know me n’ the fellas are at your beck and call, but you need to tell me what has you so blue before we talk business.”

 

Pegs, quieter than before, murmured, “You know me so well, don’t you?” Quinn beamed with pride and Dum-Dum whined because he couldn’t hear what she’d said. “You remember one of my letters where I explained that I was finally moved out of my position as a code breaker to that of an actual agent again?” Quinn hummed out an affirmative. “Once more, I’ve found myself surrounded by children.”

 

“I know how that feels,” she snorted. Most men on the bases they stopped at assumed that Dum-Dum led the team and moved down the line until, finally, someone snapped that any orders needed to be directed at Quinn. More than a few men would think it was a prank. “So, what you want is the best team this side of the world to help prove a point? Because I’m more than happy to stick it to some prick, y’know.”

 

“This is why you’re the most wonderful person in the world,” Pegs breathed out in relief. “Would you so terribly mind to meet me on the Polish side of the Russian border?”

 

Quinn opened her mouth to readily agree because she’d head to the top of the world and back if it meant some time with Pegs again, but then Dum-Dum hissed, “Booze, Quinn—I need some American booze. I’m dyin’ with this European shit. We don’t do nothin’ for her unless she smuggles over some homemade—”

 

“Oh, for the love of God,” she rubbed a hand across her face. “I have my own babies to take care of and one of ‘em wants a bottle with momma’s finest milk, if you can do that. Ah course, the joke’s on him because he put me in charge and I say that we’ll be happy to meet yah, but…some of Uncle Sam’s finest would be nice for once,” she relented and Dum-Dum silently cheered next to her.

 

“What? None of your father’s moonshine left?” Quinn barked out a laugh and Pegs, with a smile in her voice that Quinn could hear over the phone, said, “It would be rude of me not to come with a present in hand, I suppose. I’ll see you soon, Quinn.”

 

\---

 

Before their combined teams stormed down wherever it was the Leviathan people set their trap, the teams had settled down to make camp. Pegs had snorted into her drink when Quinn happily volunteered to take the first watch of the night and, no surprise, but she took Peggy as her partner. As the two women trekked around the perimeter, Quinn had made sure to put plenty room between them and the men before she stopped and turned to look at Peggy.

 

Underneath the full moon, she looked like a goddess and Quinn ducked her head, pushed some hair behind her ear, and shyly admitted, “I missed you.”

 

Pegs chuckled and reached out to take both Quinn’s hands. “I’ve missed you too, my love.”

 

It took Quinn a minute to debate whether or not she should bring it up because, boy, did she want to plant some kisses on Pegs, but…in the last letter Quinn had gotten from Peggy, it sounded like she’d…well. “So, you met a swell waitress at a diner, huh?”

 

Peggy’s thumbs brushed over Quinn’s knuckles and she hummed. “I did.” She dropped a hand and reached out to cup Quinn’s cheek. “My sweet, you know how much you mean to me.” She paused. “This hasn’t bothered you too much, has it?”

 

“ _No_ ,” Quinn denied and that was honest. “Been a little…preoccupied with _this_ ,” she waved around to motion toward the woods around them. “I…wanted to know I wasn’t about step in on someone’s territory when I tried to kiss yah, is all.”

 

“I’m surprised you haven’t had second thoughts about it,” Pegs shot back dryly.

 

Rather than continue to run her mouth, Quinn threw her arms around Peggy’s shoulders, drew her in close, and then pressed their lips together. It took Pegs by surprise, obviously, but she responded real enthusiastically which, in turn, spurned Quinn on more and she shoved the other woman back into a tree.

 

“No,” she husked when she leaned away from Peggy’s mouth. “No, I ain’t had no second thoughts. Never ever about you, okay?”

 

Pegs smiled sadly and it seemed like she had a whole lot she wanted to say in response to that, but instead she fisted her hand around the front of Quinn’s uniformed and ordered her to, “Shut up and kiss me. I don’t need to be romanced.”

 

“Pull my leg, why don’t yah?” she teased before she did exactly that.

 

 

As nice a reprieve as it’d been to be with her, the mission turned out to be one terrible shit storm. Quinn ended up stabbed in the shoulder when a _child_ pulled a switchblade on her because the Soviets had come up with a nice idea to train little ladies to be spies and soldiers now. Nice plan, she’d had to admit, because who would ever suspect a woman to be a killer—well, other ladies could’ve told men that all women had power deep in them, but that was another conversation.

 

Worst part had been that they lost Junior and that was on Quinn’s shoulders. She’d pocketed his dog tags and next time she saw Phillips, she’d have to pass them onto him so they could be sent to his momma back in the States. Jesus, he’d been a goddamn kid. He should’ve went home, should’ve met him a sweetheart, popped out a kid or two…he’d never do that and it was because Quinn had been blind to the horrors of what people could come up with in the middle of war.

 

Both Dum-Dum and Pegs assured her it wasn’t her fault— _babied_ her, basically—and Peggy made sure to wrap Quinn in a huge hug and explain before she flew back to America again that, “It’s not your fault.” Then, she brushed her lips across Quinn’s ear and, quieter, whispered, “Be well, my love.”

 

Quinn did have the pleasure to look Jack Thompson in the face and warn him, with the sweetest smile on her face, “You better learn some manners around Peggy, y’hear? Another word reaches me ‘bout how rude you been to our gal, you won’t have to worry about the Commandos. Oh, no. I’ll come to New York myself and shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll taste the blood of Soviets.”

 

Then, Quinn clapped him on the shoulder, squeezed a little too hard, and he winced which made the whole trip worth it. It doubled in pleasure when he stuttered out, “Understood, ma’am.”

 

\---

 

The year anniversary of when Steve dropped the plane into the Atlantic rolled around and it was another day on the calendar to her. The Commandos didn’t talk too much, Dum-Dum didn’t even sass when she barked orders, and they continued their nasty trek in the mud and cold. When they settled down to camp, they passed around Dum-Dum’s flask, held it out to the fire, and Quinn didn’t mind them a lick of attention. Instead, she headed into her tent, settled down to sleep, but never caught a wink of it.

That whole week, it seemed like the Commandos walked on shells around her, and it pissed her off. They wanted her to be their leader, so she could good and goddamn well lead without a breakdown, Jesus. It made her a whole lot more vicious out there in the field, but no one said a word when she walked away from camp because she needed to clean the blood off her clothes.

Quinn should’ve known, though, that it would hit her at one point or another, and it happened on what would’ve been Bucky’s birthday. She shakily declared that she wanted to make camp, even when they had more daylight to burn, but didn’t stick around to help them. She stumbled away, into the trees, and covered her mouth to keep quiet when the tears started to trickle down her face.

Death ripped her poor, sweet boy away from her, a week before he turned twenty-eight. She hadn’t had a plan, but she’d know she would’ve, at the very least, been able to whisper _I love you_ to him, but…she’d never be able to do that again. She’d dreamed so much about the future she would have with him and Steve, and yet here the three of them were—two buried in the dirt and her looking to follow them there.

Her poor, poor sweet boys, no one would ever remember the way she did, not even their closest friends, because they were so different in intimacy. Quinn could say that she had that much of them to herself. As far as the world was concerned, though, the two of them would always be Captain America and Bucky Barnes. God, her poor Bucky couldn’t even be remembered on his own and wasn’t that a shame? With all that he'd sacrificed for the goddamn good of the world and they couldn't even remember his name by itself—what a goddamn shame.

Dum-Dum found her at the bottom of a tree, legs hugged to her chest, face pushed into her knees to quiet her sobs. Without any kind of permission from her, he dropped down next to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. He took off his hat out of respect and put it in his lap. Then, he held out the flask, a silent question of whether or not she wanted to drink the pain away.

“No.” The offer tempted her, of course it did, but aside from how awful it’d be to walk around the next day when she felt so much like shit, it…it’d be harder for her to remember them when the world started to blur from booze. Now, even with the pain, their faces were so easy to picture, the way they were before, in a time when they thought they would see each other again. “No. I don’t want it.” She took a deep breath and shoved at his thigh a little. “You can leave. I’m okay on my own. You don’t have to—“

“Want to,” he grunted and squeezed harder.

Okay, if he wanted to…since he was here…”It hurts so much, Dum-Dum,” she admitted. “It hurts so bad that sometimes I can’t breathe with it.” She balled her hand into a fist and held it over her heart. “Why’d I love ‘em, huh? I should’ve known they wouldn’t live. We were in a _war_ , for God’s sake. Why’d I go and do a fool thing like love ‘em?”

“Because it was Steve Rogers and James Barnes and anyone that met those dumb kids from Brooklyn fell in love with ‘em one way or another,” he immediately answered and that made it worse, made her cry harder. “I can’t think about what kind of hurt you got goin’ on, so take your time. We can stay here as long as you want. I can, too.”

Good, because Quinn wasn’t exactly sure that she’d be able move, let alone walk, underneath the weight of her grief.

\---

 

Quinn knew that her time in Europe would come to an end, but she never expected it would've been so soon. Well, maybe it hadn't been that hard to pick up on, especially after what happened in Russia—the war had started to move out from the open battlefields and into the shadows. Quinn didn't have the temperament or the skills to be a spy, so she was stuck in the same place she'd been before she reached out to Colonel Phillips, which was that she had no idea what to do now.

 

As Quinn packed up the little possessions that she had, Dum-Dum strolled into their emptied quarters, rolled out the cot across from hers that'd been folded in half, and plopped down on it. He waved around the bottle that Pegs had brought him a few months back, and she was surprised it wasn't gone.

 

"What? Saved some for me?" she asked with a little smile and shoved her duffle to the side so she could sit down and face him.

 

"Sure did," he took a swig and then passed it to her. In the middle of her drink, he admitted, "I sure am gonna miss you, Missus Buck Rogers."

 

The liquor burned on the way down her throat and she sighed. Boy, she'd missed booze. "Yeah," she agreed quietly. "I'll miss you, too, Dum-Dum." She passed the bottle back to him. "You keep in touch now. And I know it'll be hard, but stay safe, too. I better not hear from one of the fellas that you ran your mouth and someone stabbed you with a broken bottle in a bar or some shit."

 

Dum-Dum snorted and protested with a mock offended, "I would _never_ ," There was a pause and then he suggested, "You could come to Boston with me. I know some people—I'm sure they could set a place up for yah. I think you'd have a real time with the Boston ladies. I know me a lot of ladies like you and they would love to have you run with ‘em."

 

"Aw, no, Dum-Dum, I'd be a sourpuss. Those nice ladies of yours wouldn't want to be friends with someone like me." She gave a half-hearted shrug. "I used to write for the newspaper back home, so who knows? Maybe I could do that again." She eyed him warily a second. "Hey, you mind that I be straight with yah?"

 

"You always are." He grinned crookedly. "Not sure why it'd stop you now."

 

Quinn took the bottle from his hand and took another drink before she confessed, "Before the war, I didn't know what I wanted to do with myself, either. I enlisted to be a nurse because I hoped that would help me somehow, but then I met…y'know.” She swallowed hard and blinked back tears. "I don't know how to be whole. I don't think I've ever known how."

 

"Jesus, that's depressin'," he blurted and she choked out a laugh. "Why not be a nurse again? Hospitals would love to have you, with how famous you are 'n all."

 

"I'd need to be in school for that," she replied. "I was lucky to make it in the Nurse Corps. without any college under my belt. I was in a crash course for months before I shipped out." Then, there was also the little fact of, "I've done shit, too, since I lost 'em. I shouldn't try to make people better, not with my hands already as bloody as they are."

 

"All our hands are bloody, Quinn," he shot back, expression suddenly somber, eyes dark. "What we've done, we did to make the world a better place. You shouldn't shed a tear over Nazis, and definitely not those Hydra bastards."

 

"Maybe," but Dum-Dum didn't know the terrible truth of the matter. They Commandos sometimes let Quinn head inside bases on her own, pretend to be some lost little hot number that was lost and alone and needed help—sometimes it worked and sometimes they saw past it, but she ended up inside all the same because there was no one Hydra would love to take captive more than her.

 

Quinn wondered whether the Commandos heard the screams that echoed down the halls when she stormed them, wondered whether they knew about the name superstitious Hydra soldiers had choked out as she took her time with them. She had turned cruel and when she said she'd wanted them to burn, she'd meant it. She had made sure that each and every one of them _suffered_ before they left the world.

 

"Did you like it, bein' a nurse? If you _could_ make it into a school, would you be a nurse again?" he suddenly questioned.

 

She stared at him in confusion. "Well, it had its bad days, sure, but 'course I liked it. I saved people and…yeah. Yeah. I liked it fine."

 

"Good." He nodded, took another drink, and before she could ask what harebrained idea he had in his head, he explained that, "Miss Union Jack called and she wanted to see you in New York before you scurried back down to Kentucky. I think Howie wanted to talk to you, too. You're popular. How come you're so popular?"

 

"Got me," she flopped back onto her cot and rubbed her hands across her face. "Howard better pay for my plane ticket back home. Phillips will only let me have a free ride back to the states. Do you think either of 'em knew about that when they called for me?"

 

Dum-Dum made a non-committed noise. "Drink with me one last time over here in Europe?"

 

"Yeah, Dum-Dum," she huffed in amusement. "One last time overseas."

 

\---

 

The morning after they'd given her copies of their dog tags, Quinn had woken up to one soul mate with his arms around her, and the other in a chair, sketching furiously into his sketchbook. She'd yawned and crawled out of bed to pad over behind to him, kiss him on the top of his head, and asked while she looked down at his sketch, "What bridge is that?" It’d been a stupid question because what else would it have been of? Her boys had loved to talk about home.

 

"Brooklyn Bridge," he'd answered, still focused on the sketch. She'd waited patiently and when it'd dawned on him that one of them was actually up with him, he'd blinked and put it back down in his lap. He'd tilted his head back and looked up at her, shy smile on his face, and had sworn, "One day, I'm gonna draw you and Buck with this in the background—when I have an actual proper book for it."

 

"Maybe Buck, 'cause he's the real work of art," she'd teased.

 

He'd stood up and cupped her cheeks in his hands. "You're both works of art," he'd whispered and leaned down to brush his lips over hers. "I'd draw you now," he'd husked against her mouth, had reached down to tug on the chain around her neck, "in just this," he'd added and dropped an arm down to wrap it around her waist. "But I'd hate it if one of the fellas accidentally caught a peek."

 

"Shut up, Romeo. You don't need to woo me anymore than you already have," she'd embarrassedly told him while she'd then kissed him, desperately hot for him. "I love you," she'd added breathlessly because she'd never gotten over the high of whispering that to him and he hadn't either because he'd swooped her up into his arms and took her back to bed.

 

 

In the present, alone, Quinn could admit that Brooklyn Bridge _was_ beautiful, but like the rest of New York City, it seemed…tainted--she couldn't look at it too much because of that. So, she didn't even bother to take in the scenery too much. Instead, she headed to the middle, where Peggy asked Quinn to meet her when she made it to New York.

 

Rather than throw out the niceties, as soon as Quinn made it to her side, Pegs turned to face her, a…vial, it looked like, clutched in her hands. "After Doctor Erskine's death, the SSR had taken a generous amount of blood from Steve. We believed that the key to the serum was locked in his blood. You must believe me when I say that I had no idea the samples been distributed to the government." Quinn, brows knitted, frown on her face, stared down at the vial and let Pegs gently place it in her hand. "Howard had been given one, too. I'll tell you more about all that's happened here, but…this was trusted to me."

 

Quinn let the vial roll around in her hand, rubbed her thumb over the smooth glass. "I know why you wouldn't want Howard to have this," because the bastard would reap in the benefits of whatever came from the blood, but, "You're more responsible than him, though. So, why am I here?"

 

"Because if there is anyone on this earth that has a right to this, it's you, Quinn," she answered honestly.

 

Quinn knew what she should've done—she should've handed it back to Pegs, let her take it back to the brains at the SSR, and then have them try to do some wonders for the world. Steve would've wanted that, no doubt. Who knew what kind of cures the scientists could wrestle up from his blood? Little kids who had it in a bad way like Steve used to, before the serum, could be saved and could do wonders on their own. He would _love_ that, she knew. Even in death, he could continue save the world.

 

Of course, on the other side of that, the reason Steve was allowed to have that serum in the first place was to make him a super soldier and, honest, that’s probably what Uncle Sam would use his blood for—probably already did. Should someone sneak away their own sample of whatever the government had left or took Howard’s, what bad could they do to the world?

 

But…what it boiled down to was that both Quinn's soul mates had sacrificed their lives for the betterment of the world, and as much as she hurt, as ripped apart as she felt inside these days, it was time to let them have their peace. It’d been the world to rip them away from Quinn and…as terrible a person that it made her, she wanted to do it in return.

 

"Help me?" Quinn asked shakily as she tried to blink back tears, but it didn’t work.

 

"Of course," Peggy whispered and took Quinn's hand in hers after Quinn uncorked the vial. "Goodbye, my darling," she murmured to the vial—to _Steve_.

 

Quinn herself couldn’t do it, couldn’t let him have that goodbye yet, but she could do this in retaliation for what had been done to her. So, she held onto the vial a second more, then tipped it over into the river, and watched as the last piece of her soul mate washed away from this world.

 

\---

 

For someone that was supposed to be one of the smartest men in the nation, Howard sure could ask some dumb questions because, as Quinn and Pegs waited outside of the room he’d holed himself up in, he asked, “Is she mad?” What else would she be when she found out that he’d held the blood of her soulmate in his hands and planned to use it to make money for himself?

 

Mister Jarvis, who Quinn met a few minutes before, looked at the two women for a second, cleared his throat, and informed Howard that, “Yes, Miss Hayden is quite upset, sir, but I believe the more you put this inevitable meeting off, the worse it will be for you.”

 

Quinn smiled a little at him and he shot her one back then schooled his expression when, slowly, the door opened. Howard poked his head out from behind the door a little and Quinn wanted to punch him then and there, but it would be too awkward an angle and she’d no doubt bust her hand on the doorway.

 

So, to make it seem like she was somewhat level-headed at the moment, she turned to Pegs and explained, “I think it’d be best that this be between me ‘n him, okay?” Pegs opened her mouth to protest, probably because she knew Quinn’s temper and wanted to be there to supervise, but Quinn crowded Howard back into the room and waved Peggy away with, “You and Mister Jarvis have some tea or somethin’, okay?”

 

Quinn locked the door so that she and Howard had the privacy she wanted—God, she never ever wanted to think that when it came to Howard Stark—and when she turned around to look at him, murder clear as day in her eyes, he threw himself behind the desk to try and put room between them. “Okay, Hayden, I know you’re mad and you have every reason to be.” He put up his hands, as if that’d stop her from stalking toward him, fists clenched. “So, I wanted to make it up to you.”

 

“You took Steve’s _blood_ ,” she snarled. “You son of a bitch, you took that blood and you kept it and you would’ve used it and kept the money for yourself, wouldn’t you?”

 

Howard frowned and tried to defend himself. “You have no idea what his blood could do for the world, do you? Have you even stopped to think about how many people it could save? Steve would’ve wanted us to use it—”

 

“Stark, you better shut the fuck up now because no goddamn desk is gonna save you from me if you don’t.” Howard learned some goddamn common sense and snapped his mouth shut. She continued, bitter and madder than hell, “If you really wanted to make the world a better place, you would’ve done it by now or you would’ve helped the scientists in the government who had their own samples, but you _don’t_ want to help the world. All you want is your bank account to be a better place.”

 

The bastard didn’t even have the decency to deny that. Instead, his eyes dropped to the floor and he whispered, “I truly am sorry, Quinn.”

 

Quinn shook, with fury or grief, she didn’t know, and she blinked away her tears. “Who the fuck do you think you are, to use his memory that way, for your own personal reasons?” And, out of spite, she told him, “You know what I did with it? I threw it into the river. Not you, not me, not anyone else will ever see that piece of him anymore.” She quieted for a second, to collect herself, and spat out, “We’re two peas in a pod, me ‘n you. We’re both of us selfish bastards. The world took Steve and Bucky away from me, so I’ll take whatever’s left of them away from everyone else. The world’s spun on before them and it spins on now. It’ll do fine without Steve’s blood.”

 

A few tense minutes passed and Quinn settled down. With a sigh, she turned around and headed for the door. She’d said her piece. Howard stopped her, though, when he explained, “I want to take a crew out to look for the Valkyrie and I wanted you to be there with me.”

 

“You think this’ll make me forgive you?” Quinn was more than a little offended that he thought it would be that easy.

 

Howard shrugged. “It’s a start, isn’t it?”

 

\---

It could’ve been the quiet or the vastness of the open ocean, how it stretched on and on without end, but whatever it was about the Atlantic, it helped settle Quinn down. Or…well, it could’ve been that what she felt was how a person was supposed to at a funeral for a loved one. Was it peace that Quinn felt or was it acceptance of the dead?

Out at sea had been where Steve buried himself, after all, and when they located the Valkyrie, his body would be there with it. Maybe they could take him home to Brooklyn, put him to rest with his ma and pa. Then, if Howard was up to it, maybe he could fund a search for Bucky. That’s what the two of them deserved, to have their bodies found, put to rest beside each other. They’d spent most of their time in this world with each other, no reason that they shouldn’t leave it the same way.

“I’ve talked to Dum-Dum,” Howard spoke up and, thank God, shoved her out of her own head. “We’ve both decided it’s time for you to leave the nest and head on to medical school. At this very moment, Jarvis should be making all of the proper arrangements. We thought about a regular medical school, but Peggy thought you deserved a break, what with men who might give you a hard time, so we’re shooting for the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania.”

Quinn took a second to process what he said because, honest, she tended to tune Howard out when he ranted. When it sunk in, she turned to look at him, blinked, leaned in close to take a sniff of his breath. “Are you drunk?” she asked because drunk was the only explanation to what had come out of his mouth—wait a second. “Did you say—are you—Dum-Dum and Peggy? Is _everyone_ in on this or what?”

“Essentially,” Howard answered with a one-shouldered shrug.

She groaned and scrubbed a hand across her face. “I should’ve known Dum-Dum was up to no good when he was askin’ me if I’d be a nurse again.”

“Doctor,” he corrected and she looked at him blankly. “Nurse is too small, Hayden. You should think bigger. We need you to be a doctor. Well, obviously, you’ll have to get your four years in and get accepted into medical school, but we have faith in you.” He clapped her on the back. She slid away from him in case he decided to want to let it linger.

Quinn gave on panicked laugh. “You’re out of your mind. Howard, do you _know_ how expensive college is? How am I supposed to afford that, huh? I’m some wartime nurse from the backwoods of Kentucky. Even if I could come up with the money for it, do you honestly think they would take me with as shitty an education that I’ve had?”

“You’re dedicated,” Howard protested. “Plus, I’m sure they could… _overlook_ some things if I were to give them a healthy donation—“

“A _bribe_ ,” she snapped. “That’s called a _bribe_.”

“That’s a last ditch effort!” he immediately shot back. “Let’s be honest, when the war hero Quinn Hayden wants to be a student at your school, I doubt they’ll pass up the chance.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I’m worth a lot of money, Hayden. Unlike you, I can afford to throw away money, though it’s actually a good cause in this case.”

A complete and total mental breakdown was in her immediate future, she knew it. Here she’d been so sure that if it was to happen, it would’ve already happened, but no. And surprise, Howard Stark was the cause. “Is this ‘cause we ain’t found the plane yet? Or…or is it another reason for you to make it up to me ‘bout what happened with the blood? Don’t, if those are the only reasons. You don’t owe me a thing, Howard, especially however much it costs to send a person to _medical school_.”

“It’s not about that,” he answered with a frown. “It’s _not_. No…” He made a sour face. “This was supposed to be a surprise for you and Peggy—mostly Peggy because, no offense meant, but I like her better—but I’ve been working on cementing that dream of yours. You _can’t_ tell Peggy yet.” Quinn wasn’t sure what she was supposed to not tell Pegs because she had no idea what Howard was on about now. “You wanted to make a shield for the world, didn’t you?” he questioned.

Quinn couldn’t help the surprised, “ _That_?” Howard nodded proudly. “How in the world have been able to do that? Haven’t you been on the run from Uncle Sam the past couple of months?”

“Yes, that was a bit of an obstacle, and I never said I was done. It’s still in the works. I did come up with a name! You’ll love this—I’ve decided on the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”

“S…H…I…E…L…D,” she repeated the first letter of each word slowly and her heart broke a little. “SHIELD,” she said one more time and shot Howard a suddenly watery smile. “People are gonna hate that. It’s long as hell.”

“Thank you for the support,” he retorted sarcastically and she smiled a little wider. “So, there’s time left. I, obviously, can provide money, my brain, and my charming good looks. If we could somehow enlist that old sourpuss Phillips, he could deal with the government and the army. I think I’ll leave Peggy in charge because she’s so much better at that kind of thing and she can also scare people into following orders. As for you, you’ll head up the medical division. We have to keep our agents in tip-top shape.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. It was nice that her whole future had been planned out for her by _someone else_. “And what if I don’t wanna?”

“That would be awkward then, to have an organization out there that _you came up with the idea for_ and not be a part of it.” Then, innocently, Howard added, “Did I mention that I have Dugan, Morita, and Jones on board, too? I think they’d be upset to see you skip out on them now.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that. She said, “You _bastard_ ,” but the gratitude was plain as day on her face.

\---

Quinn would never admit it out loud, but Howard had been on the money about the school and how’d they accept her, no problem, because of her record in the war. The second that she made it back to Kentucky, after the fruitless search for the plane, Ma had run out and shoved the acceptance letter in her hands, tears on her face, and she babbled so fast that Quinn couldn't understand a word she said.

 

"A doctor?" Liam questioned quietly, his feet in the water with Quinn's, and she remembered a time when his toes couldn't even reach the water at all. Jesus, her brother had shot up like a weed.

 

"Have to do school first—uh, it's complicated," Quinn said quickly when he looked at her in confusion. "Medical school is a lot harder and they may give me the boot before I'm even there, so we'll see, I suppose."

 

Liam, in a rare show of support, put his hand on hers. "You'll be a real nice doctor, Quinn, and you can give me all the free check-ups I want!"

 

"Yeah, Liam," she smiled a little and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "All the check-ups you want, I swear it."


	3. 1947-1955

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The body of James Buchanan Barnes is finally brought home...or so they had thought at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what it was about Civil War that made me get my ass into gear and pump out another chapter, but here this is. I promise that once the story catches up to The Winter Soldier, everything shall be explained, I swear it. Until then, enjoy the angst!  
> Oh, historical things mentioned during this chapter are the Lavender Scare which happened during the era of McCarthy wherein people were accused of communism my Senator McCarthy and people were also accused of being homosexual which was obviously bad since this got you thrown into an institution that treated your sexuality like a disease. Also, integration of American schools is mentioned, too. The Civil Rights Movement will be touched on deeper in the next chapter.  
> Thanks guys! I love you to pieces!

**1947.**

It didn’t last—on her end, anyway—but she hadn’t expected it would.

Quinn had made it a whole two semesters in school and she was proud as hell that she’d made it that far and she actually believed that she could do it, could become a doctor. Also, she’d met her some nice ladies to boot, and the lot of them were supportive of one another and that was nice to have because, as much as she tried to keep in contact with everyone, it could be real lonely sometimes in Pennsylvania.

Since Philadelphia had been closer to New York than Kentucky, she decided she would visit her wartime buddies before she headed home for the summer. Howard had done what he said he would, had started SHIELD up, and the Commandos were there at the headquarters now, and Pegs was there, too.

At the moment, SHIELD was still a smalltime deal, was in an old abandoned army base, Camp Lehigh, and the last time that Pegs had talked to her, she’d told Quinn, “This is where I met Steve, where Doctor Erskine saw the man we love, how extraordinary he was, so…it seemed fitting to start our operation here. Was that too presumptuous of me?”

“You don’t have to ask me for permission, y’know,” Quinn had answered, embarrassed that everyone had this idea that they needed her permission to talk about her soulmates. “Steve wasn’t mine and mine alone. You knew him before me. You have your own memories with him. Do whatever you want.”

So, Quinn was on her way to see Director Carter—“That’s a hell of a rank. I like it. You deserve it, Pegs,” she also had said in that same phone conversation, and Howard had let her in on that secret, but she still acted real surprised—but when she stepped into the open space and looked over the people who hustled and bustled past her, in the back, she spotted someone. She had to blink and blink, to make sure it was who she was damn sure it was, and then her whole world turned red.

It took three men twice her size to haul her back to the elevator. One ended up with a broken arm when she tossed him across the room, another nursed a black eye, bruises and a broken nose, and the other probably won’t ever have children because of her. She screamed and carried on and tried to wrap her hands around that squirmy little fucker’s neck. He was hidden behind a human wall that tried to separate him from her and he had the audacity to push up his glasses while he smirked oh-so-smugly and he even wrote on his little clipboard.

It took Dum-Dum and Morita to make sure she kept in the elevator when the three men practically threw her into it because she would never ever hurt them on purpose. Peggy had rushed out at all the commotion and told Dum-Dum and Jim to keep back in the base, that her and Quinn needed to speak in private, so when the two women were alone when they walked outside.

Quinn didn’t want to know the truth, but she still asked Pegs, “Did you know?” There was no response and when her eyes moved over to Peggy, the brunette wouldn’t even look at her, and Quinn’s heart broke. Later, she’d know it wasn’t fair, but Quinn exploded then and it was Pegs who took the impact. “You fucking bitch,” she snarled and Peggy stood there and took her insults, her screams, and the furious sobs that came from Quinn in stride. “How can you call yourself my friend when you’re letting that…that _motherfucker_ work for us? He deserves a bullet in his goddamn head, deserves to burn and rot in hell, but I was okay when they said he’d rot away in a cell for the rest of his pitiful little life. What in the hell was going through your head when you offered him a _job_? What is he _doin’_ here, Peggy?”

As she shook with fury, the horror of the situation slowly started to dawn on Quinn. “You didn’t even tell me, you fucking coward. How could you talk to me, like there wasn’t a damn care in the world, when you let him into SHIELD? Do you know what he’s done? Do you know how many people he’s helped kill?” For a second, she couldn’t breathe past the sudden rush of tears and pain. Then, she really hit below the belt when she screamed, “He’s the reason Bucky’s dead! Did that slip your mind, huh? My soulmate is _dead_ ‘cause of him!”

Once Quinn could breathe and didn’t break back down into tears, Peggy tried to defend her actions and the least Quinn could do was sit there and listen to Peggy explain, “How can you possibly think I’ve forgotten when I’ve had to watch you suffer these past years? Do you think I liked what I did? I _didn’t_. How could you think that I would do this to purposely hurt you? Do you think I didn’t want to kill him as slowly and painfully as possible? I _wanted_ to, Quinn. I desperately wanted to _end his wretched little life_. But you need to understand that we’ll have to compromise to be what the world needs us to be. I’ll make sure Zola never hurts another person. I promise you that his work will _help_ people. Please, Quinn, you need to trust my decision.”

“You think I’m that dumb? I _know_ we’d have to put up with shit that we don’t like to make this happen. I’ve _had_ to do shit like that when we were overseas.” Quinn _knew_ it, she did, but, “I will _never_ work with that son of a bitch. You want to keep him here?” She held her hands up in surrender. “Fine by me, but I won’t be here, not until he’s back in a cell where he _should’ve_ stayed.” She shook her head and chewed on her lip, but it didn’t work. A new hurt clawed at her already torn heart and she choked out, “I love you. You’ve been my goddamn saving grace since I lost them. No matter how mad I am, I’ll love you ‘til the day they put me in the ground, you hear?” Peggy closed her eyes and when tears ran down her cheeks, Quinn’s resolve took a hit. “But I’m done. Find someone else to take my spot. I won’t put up with this horse-shit.” Before she turned her back on Pegs, she warned, “You better watch your back ‘cause, swear to God, he’ll put a knife in it the second you ain’t lookin’.” 

 

Because Howard had admitted to her that he loved Peggy more than he’d ever care for Quinn, she’d been sure that medical school was out of the question. Yet again, Quinn’s temper got the best of her, and she headed down to Kentucky, her head hung in shame. Before she even talked to Ma and Pa about it—they’d been so proud that she’d made it a year so far, prouder than Quinn—there was a letter in the mail for her. When she’d been able to look away from the check that had more numbers on it than she’d ever seen on a piece of paper in her life, she read the note that came inside the envelope with it.

_We’re sorry._

_Become a doctor and save the world in your own way._

_Yours,_

_Howard_

Quinn decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and went back to school for the next semester.

 

 

**1948.**

So, Dum-Dum had somehow become a mind reader because he knew, to the near exact hour, when Quinn would be back on campus and called to ask if he could meet up with her. Even in Philadelphia, Boston was about five hours away, so it was quite the trip to make because he wanted to _catch up_. She wasn’t dumb and she knew his real intention was to convince her to come back to SHIELD and she was surprised he didn’t tell her that Jim would be with him, too. Since she was a sucker when it came to him, she decided to let him come see her, because worse that could come out of it was that she said no and she’d offered to buy him a drink and all would be okay between them once more.

Quinn decided to clean up some, so she let her dress slide down to pool at her feet, and she tended to not stare at her marks as much as possible, but her eye couldn’t help but be drawn to it. In horror, Quinn ran the tips of her fingers across the darkened name, _James Buchanan Barnes_. She reached down to snatch her dress, wiped at the letters like the ink would wipe away, and she had to shove away the déjà vu. Once upon a time, she hated to see those marks show up and had tried to scrub them away, and now she was desperate to do that again, because…the implication that…

Oh, _God_. What if—Bucky had fallen, but…did that mean he lived? He…well, he could’ve very well been in some kind of a coma? There had to be some explanation as to why his name would suddenly be dark on her skin. And they’d never had the chance to look for his body. What if—Lord have mercy, what if someone had found him at the bottom of that ravine?

Hours later, around the time that Dum-Dum said he would be at the train station, and Quinn darted to meet him and blubbered the whole time when she explained what happened. Poor fella wanted to have a nice time and she had to ruin it, but…he’d be happy as hell if they found Bucky. _What if Bucky was alive_?

Finally, when the both of them had time to let it settle in their brains, Dum-Dum explained, in a rare show of seriousness, “I think you need to settle your difference with Miss Union Jack and Howie because they’re the only people who can help us with this.”

“If it’ll save Bucky, I’ll do whatever I have to,” Quinn answered immediately.

 

 

The second that she and Dum-Dum stepped into the base and she spotted that little rat in the corner of the room, Quinn’s hackles immediately raised and she tried not to bare her teeth at him and rip his throat out then and there. Instead, she repeated the mantra of _save Bucky, save Bucky, save Bucky_ in her head, over and over, while she pleaded for help.

General consensus between them was that the best place to start would be at the bottom of that mountain. It didn’t take a scientist to sense the skepticism that came from pretty much everyone on the mission and who was Quinn to blame them? Almost two whole years had passed since he fell and say that he had been in some kind of coma, he wouldn’t still be there at the bottom of the mountain. Someone had to have found him and what hope was there that there would be clues to point them in his direction?

But…Quinn had to listen to her heart because what more could she do than that, huh? She _had_ to _hope_ that there would be some clues, that she would be able to find him, in the end.

Howard had been able to come up with an approximate location to where Bucky could’ve ended up at the bottom of the ravine, what with the help that Gabe offered because he and Monty had shown up. Other than Dernier, the whole Commando team that’d been there that day was with them now.

Quinn, the SHIELD team, the Commandos, they scoured the bottom of that ravine for _days_ , and every hour that passed without luck slowly crushed the little hope that Quinn had inside her for the first time in years. She’d take breaks, to make sure her mark was dark, and it was, it didn’t dwindle in shade one bit, and that made it so much worse. Buck was out there, lost and alone, someone had him, but she _couldn’t find him_.

Then, _finally_ , luck came to them when a Soviet soldier snooped a little too close to the scene. No one had a clue that he would be their charm, but men tended to blab when they were sure their lives were at stake, and oh, how that man talked when Dum-Dum had him alone.

There was some secret base, sounded a lot like what Leviathan had with the kids, but there was an American there—an American soldier—but he wouldn’t tell them the coordinates. So, while everyone discussed their plan of action, Quinn snuck into where they held the man and pulled a picture out of her coat pocket, the one she kept close to her heart, of Steve, Bucky, and her. She showed it to the man, pointed at Buck, and demanded to know, “Is this the soldier?” The Soviet snapped his mouth shut, resolute in his silence. “Walk me to the base and I let you live. Don’t do it and I tell them to use the river to make you talk,” she hissed.

How many men had screamed when you dunked their heads under the water, over and over and over again? It was only a matter of time before the man agreed to take her to the base. As Quinn escorted out the suddenly real helpful Soviet, she bumped into Doctor Gottschalk—another German that had been allowed into America once the war was done and over. From what Quinn understood, he didn’t associate with Zola, and he seemed a decent man, so she tried to plead with him, “Please, I need to do this.”

Gottschalk nodded and stepped to the side. “I can borrow some time, I think.”

Once she had Buck, Quinn would thank the doctor proper, but until then, she shoved the Soviet soldier ahead, and let him lead her to the base. It had to be the dumbest plan Quinn could come up with, but she was desperate, and a whole team was too much attention—better and a lot safer, but a lone person could sneak in and out and Quinn could handle herself.

Unfortunately, as soon as the base came into view, the sound of a gun rung out in the distance and the man at her side went down in a heap of blood, head blown to hell. Sirens started to wail and Quinn pulled her own weapon up before she started to sprint toward the entrance of the place—so much for surprise. Wherever the sniper was, she seemed too fast for him to hit, and she could make it before the doors slammed shut, she _could_. Her heart raced inside her chest and this was it, she would have him in her arms, and it wouldn’t be three, but two was better than one.

Quinn could’ve sworn that her hand brushed the metal of the door before an explosion of flames and heat and smoke sent her back a few feet into the snow. Before the world went completely black, she had one last desperate thought of _Bucky_ …

 

 

No surprise that when Quinn woke up in a little medical clinic, closest one to where the base had been, no doubt, Pegs was the sole person in the room. Privacy to scream at Quinn about the fool thing she’d done, probably. Instead, the brunette took a seat next to Quinn, sucked in a deep breath, let it out, and whispered, “I don’t think they ever planned to let him be taken back alive. I believe that, once they realized their operative had been captured, it was only a matter of time from there.” Gently, she pressed three charred dog tags onto Quinn’s chest. “I am so sorry, my love.”

At least there was a corpse to take back to America, she reflected bitterly before she broke down into tears.

 

 

Missus Winifred wrapped an arm around Quinn's shoulders and pulled her close to her side. "Thank you," she whispered shakily as she pressed a kiss to Quinn's scarred temple. "Thank you for bringin' my baby home."

Quinn stood there at that grave, read the name _James Buchanan Barnes_ over and over until her eyes damn near about bled, and didn't move an inch for hours after the funeral was over.

 

 

Someone must’ve called home to Kentucky to talk to them about what happened because, about a week after she makes it back to Philadelphia, more torn up than ever, when she made it back to her dorm once her classes were done, there was a call on the line. She hadn’t been sure to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t Anne-Marie DuPont—Josie and Sophia’s momma. Well, no, it _did_ make a little sense because, down in Louisiana, she had lost her soul mate, Lawrence, to the Klan a little bit after Sophia had been born.

Neither of them spoke to each other a minute or two after Anne-Marie said her hello and then she broke the silence with, “Back after I done lost him, ladies who worked the fields with me came to help take care ah Josie and Sophia, ‘cause I couldn’t move with how much it hurt. They says the first years the hardest ones, that’s what they old mommas told them when they lost theirs.”

Quinn knocked her head back on the nearest surface. “’S it true?” and she didn’t know what she wanted there—wanted a lie or the truth.

Momma DuPont snorted and it was a bitter thing. “What yah think? I ran away from the bayou up to where my kin hauled from and it still didn’t make it no better.” She paused. “I think God hates us for our sins, that’s why He gives us these marks. We has the chance to be one whole person when we has our match and He snatches it away to teach the rest ah us lessons.”

That’d been about when Quinn started to cry because, yeah, Momma DuPont was on the money about that, maybe not so much to teach everyone else a lesson but to teach _her_ a lesson. She had always been selfish and she wondered whether Momma DuPont knew that it’d been because of Quinn that Josie had almost died. Honest, it had only been a matter of time before God punished her for the hurt she’d caused with her selfishness.

“He chooses the best to take marks from, even if you don’t feel like you a good person. He does it to see how strong we is, I suppose. Your mama and papa and me, we hurt for you. It’s been, hell, seventeen years, _non_? There’re days I still wonder how I can breathe without him, how I can do much ah anything missing a part ah me. I know I couldn’t keep on if I lost two," Momma DuPont admitted. “ _Mon bébé_ , there ain’t much I can say that ain’t gonna be lies and you don’t wants to hear it anyhow. You just remember that you’re strong. You always been a fighter. Gonna be damn hard, but you get back on your feet and show God ‘n the world that they can try to cut yah down, but you gonna grow back stronger than before.”

 

 

**1950.**

Five years had passed since Quinn lost her fellas.

It still didn’t hurt no less.

Back in the war, when they tried to be friends before they tried to be soulmates, she’d asked Steve how come, when he’d been a skinny little thing, he always kept getting back up when they’d beaten him half to death—because Lord knew how much Bucky rammed that point about Steve home.

Steve had smiled at her, small and soft, and told her, “I asked Ma that once, too, when I was a little kid, when we was down on our luck, asked why she even bothered and didn’t _stay down_ , and she says, ‘Because, and you listen close, Steven’,” he had sighed wistfully then, and by that point, she’d known about his momma, so she reached out and took his hand. He’d looked down at their intertwined fingers and finished quietly with, “‘you always stand back up.’”

It’s hard, but Quinn tried her best to stand back up.

 

 

**1953.**

Quinn had been asked to talk about her time with Captain America because someone wanted to make a documentary about him. It didn’t take too much time when it came to her interview because all she could come up with was, “There’s never been and won’t ever be a man like Steve—sorry. There’ll never be another person like Captain Rogers," she edited and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the interviewer because it would be on camera and he seemed like a decent kid, anyway. It wasn’t his fault he wanted it professional.

“You once said that Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were your soulmates, correct? They denied it. Was this claim true?” Quinn hesitated at the question, but thank God, she kept her expression neutral. She could’ve admitted to it, the truth, but instead, she shook her head. “Oh? Care to elaborate why you lied?”

It took Quinn more than a minute to answer because she had to hold back the words that she wanted to scream at the camera, at the world, scream about what they are—what they _used to be_. “I did it—” she cleared her throat, took a sip of water, and lied with, “I did it to help the world accept people that aren’t seen as normal, I suppose. Guess I wanted to show that anyone could be a help to the war…”

“That was extremely brave of you, Miss Hayden, to put your reputation on the line like that.”

“No, sweetheart, the brave ones were Steve and Bucky,” she whispered and looked away from the camera, paused for a second, and then added, “I was…one more nurse in the war. I never deserved—” _them_ “—to work with them, or the Commandos, for that matter. I don’t think I’ve ever been more honored than I was when I was with them.”

It had been then that Quinn knew she would never be able to admit the truth to the world because the world would never accept it. More than one soul mark, to have a man as your soul mark when you’re a man yourself—even if your other mark is a woman—that kind of shit made a person defective, and she couldn’t do that to Steve or Bucky. Her fellas…they’d died as heroes and she would do her damned hardest to make sure it stayed that way.

The poor interviewer then went on to naively ask Quinn about the day of the crash. “We spoke to Miss Carter, but she didn’t elaborate on what Captain Rogers said as he was putting the plane down. Do _you_ care to talk to us about that?”

Quinn closed her eyes. “Sweetheart, don’t ask me about that again.”

The interview had been pretty much done and over after that.

 

 

There had been an uneasy compromise that Quinn and Pegs came to wherein they didn’t talk about the little nasty reason that split them up. Also, after that failed attempt to save Bucky…Pegs had made it clear that the two of them were to be friends from then on. Poor Pegs, she must’ve seen that any kind of relationship with Quinn would be haunted by ghosts and no one, especially not Peggy, deserved that. Other than that awkward patch, the two of them were…as close to normal as they could be or ever would be from there on out.

Since the two of them had been at the interview, Quinn was invited to dinner to meet Peggy’s new husband and it took the whole walk to the apartment to process that information because what the fuck? Pegs hadn’t even mentioned that she’d been with a man—let alone went and got _hitched_. But Quinn had to quickly get the hell over it when the door opened to reveal, of all people, Daniel Sousa.

“Well, I’ll be,” Quinn put both her hands on her waist and Daniel at least ducked his head, bashful, while Pegs didn’t even look bothered. “Daniel Sousa, huh?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I should’ve known it’d happen, what with how y’all looked at each other, but _c’mon_ , you’re married and you didn’t tell me or even invite me to the wedding?” Honest, she was downright offended that she hadn’t been told.

Pegs rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you baby. It was a rushed decision and you were in the middle of your final, most important exams at the time. I didn’t want to bother you needlessly.” 

“Needlessly,” Quinn repeated with a huff.  

 

 

**1954.**

Quinn became Quinn Hayden M.D and both her families—the one from Kentucky and the one she made in the war—were there to hoot and holler when she walked up and took her diploma. There were more than a few people in the crowd that were star struck by the presence of the Howling Commandos and there’d also been a whole lot of ladies that eyed Howard.

Ma, once she’d cried so much that Quinn wondered how she hadn’t died from it, peppered kisses across Quinn’s cheeks, her nose, her forehead, and tucked some hair behind Quinn’s ear. “You don’t look no older from the day we done sent you off to be a nurse,” she sighed nostalgically. “Now my baby girl’s a doctor—a _doctor_ , Benny,” she said toward Pa who, since the ceremony started, had a proud grin plastered on his face. “You came so far. I never met ‘em, but I know your boys would be proud of you, same as me ‘n your pa.” It made Quinn start to cry, which made Ma start to cry _again_ , and there was a whole mess of tears because even Pa shed a few himself.

 

 

At the bar where the Commandos took her out to drink in celebration, when the boys were so drunk that they started to raise their drinks to Steve and Bucky, she made an escape to the bathroom where she washed her face and tried to breathe past the heartache. Ma had been on the money about how Steve and Buck would’ve been proud as hell that she made it where she did, would be out there with the others, drunk off their asses, would run their damn mouths about how much better she was than anyone the other fellas found.

She looked up at the mirror then, when she remembered what Ma said, touched her face, and she’d always remember how scared she was when she realized that Ma had been right.

 Quinn looked no older than she was at the start of the war…

…and that had been ten years ago.

 

\--- 

 

Later that year, some men in suits showed up at her apartment and she was sure that it’d been SHIELD who sent them, so she let them in without a word, and tried not to act irritated about it because no one let her know about it ahead of time. It’d been when they sat down at her table and asked her to do the same that they told her they were with the American government, not SHIELD, and they had some questions for Quinn. It made her suspicious as hell, but she kept calm and dare didn’t let it show.

“Your name is Quinn Esther Hayden, born on November 21, 1920, in Hazard, Kentucky, to Emmett and Claire Hayden, correct?” She nodded, but one sent her this sharp look that didn’t make her attitude better, and she actually replied out loud that, yeah, it was right. “Your mother, Claire, was born in Lexington, Kentucky, but your father, Emmett, had been born in New York. Was your father an immigrant?”

“ _No_ ,” Quinn drawled and narrowed her eyes at them. “Grandparents weren’t, either, if you was ‘bout to ask that, too. Hayden family’s been here since a little before the war between North ‘n South.” Something didn’t seem right about the men, but she let them have their questions, made sure to remember them so she could talk to Pegs about it later.

“Thank you. This may seem obvious, but you also served as a nurse for the Strategic Scientific Reserve, and worked under Captain Steven Rogers and the Howling Commandos during the war, yes?”

 “Yes,” They were dancing around, she knew it, and so she tried to play dumb to make them get to the point of why they were really here. So much for that patience she wanted to have. “Are you some writers the government hired to wrestle up a biography?”

“No, Miss Hayden, we—”

“Since you know so much about me then you know its Doctor Hayden now,” she interrupted petulantly. 

The man cleared his throat. “Doctor Hayden, of course,” he amended but it seemed a little reluctant. “So, during the war, you were documented as saying that Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were your soul mates. In an interview last year, you said this was a lie made up to help boost morale for the nation. But it appears that all files that SHIELD has in relation to the soul marks that you may have and that both Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes _did_ have has since been redacted.”

The mention of her soulmates started to _really_ piss Quinn off. “I don’t work with SHIELD, y’know. I can’t control what they do with some old files they kept from the war. Trust me, pal, I have plenty of paperwork to deal with at the hospital I reside at as it is. I don’t want no more.” 

“Do you _have_ soul marks?”

“Nope,” she made the _p_ pop. They didn’t look satisfied with her answer and she couldn’t risk them seeing, so she tried to put on the damsel in distress act. “Gonna ask me to strip now, too? Woman all alone with two men—you sure you’re with the government? I need to call the cops on y’all?”

Yeah, that made them real uncomfortable. “That’s not necessary, Doctor Hayden. I apologize if we’ve made it seem like we’re…here to violate you.” No, they just wanted to violate her privacy. “So, what was your relationship with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes?”

“They were some close friends, same as the rest of the Commandos. You get close with the people who you bleed with, get shot at with—ain’t you heard of that saying, uh, ‘brothers in arms’? It was like that.” When she shot back at them, “You ask the other Commandos these kinds of questions, huh?” she definitely wanted to be vindictive.

“You were friends then,” they started to scribble on their papers real fast then. “Do you know what kind of relationship Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes had?”

Quinn went dead still then. She had to tread real careful around that territory because if she told them to leave, it’d confirm whatever suspicions they might’ve had about the fellas. “They were brothers. Did you not hear me when I said _brothers in arms_? I mean, they weren’t in war when they lived in Brooklyn, but these here New York streets can be rough, I hear.”

“It seems that you were extremely close with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, from what the other Commandos have indicated so far. Did their _brotherly_ relationship seem…strange or odd? Perhaps closer than two men should be?”

Desperate to keep the truth away from the men, Quinn snapped at them, “What? Do you want me to admit that I slept around with them or what? Is that why you would slander their name like this? You care that much ‘bout what I did in the war while me ‘n the Commandos helped _keep this country’s freedom_.” Then, she decided to break out her trump card and bit down so hard on the inside of her cheek that it bled and she, in turn, started to tear up. “I lost dear friends and you—”

Quinn would never know what it was about women in tears that made men so damn uncomfortable, but both men profusely apologized for how upset they made her, and were soon on their way because she made sure _not_ to stop until they were out of her apartment.

“McCarthy,” Pegs growled over the phone when Quinn immediately called to ask her about what the fuck had happened. “I can’t _believe this_. They came after me, too, you know. They…tried to implicate me in an affair with you. Men are so bloody terrified of women in power and I am so very sorry, Quinn. I had no idea they would come after you next. You shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Quinn muttered. McCarthy…she should’ve known that he was the real root of the problem. The man had put the whole damn nation into a constant state of panic what with how he threw around accusations of people who were this and that and now, he’d tried to accuse—they put people _away_ and did terrible shit to their heads if they had soulmates who were the same sex as them. Fuck, they’d come after Pegs and they’d tried to ruin her soulmate’s names. “It’s okay. We’re okay. I scared ‘em away with my tears.”

Peggy laughed quietly. “I’ve taught you well.”

 

\---

 

Quinn asked to have two weeks off from the hospital so she could visit Kentucky and the hospital couldn’t be quicker to let her have it. She made sure to have an official copy of the request and the approval because she knew they wanted her out and they would come up with any bullshit excuse to give her the boot. Jesus, medical degree under her belt and the men at the hospital acted like they owned it. Anyway, she spent a week with Ma, Pa, and Liam—which also meant Sophia because they couldn’t get enough of each other and it hurt a little to see them moon over each other so much, but she was happy for them, too, of course she was.

Then, Quinn took a bus up to Louisville to spend the second week with Josie, if…Josie would have her which was a little bit of a stretch. It’d been a decade since she saw Josie last, but they kept up with one another, no doubt about it. Still, that didn’t mean Josie would let her hole up with her. Hell, maybe Josie didn’t even want to see Quinn’s dumb face anymore.

 That horse shot itself in the face when Josie opened up the door to her little apartment, blinked at Quinn in brief shock, and then hauled her inside quickly so she could wrap Quinn up in her arms. There was this…this _thing_ about the way that Josie pet her hair, whispered so softly, “Oh, _mon chère_ ,” that made her break down into tears. It wasn’t fair, she knew that, to cry into the arms of her mismatched soulmate over the deaths of her other two, but Josie put a stop to her choked apologies immediately. “Hush now, Quinn. I almost lost my heart when I lost you, but to lose that twice over…that’s more pain that anyone should have to deal with. Let me carry it a little, _oui_?” 

 

 

A few days later, Josie pressed her forehead to Quinn’s, and the both of them were in tears. The reporter on the radio repeated the news about the decision the Supreme Court made. Schools weren’t allowed to separate whites and coloreds no more.

It was too late for Quinn and Josie and, hell, it was too late for Liam and Sophia those two were in their twenties now, but the baby those two were bound to have wouldn’t have to worry about the color of their skin holding them back from getting a good education. Quinn swore, then and there, that she would start to save up some money, send that baby to college. Jesus, there was so much more to deal with, so many more kinds of problems, but this had been a _start_. 

 “Whatever I can do,” Quinn swore to Josie, God, and everyone else because times were changing and a whole bunch of people wouldn’t like it, were going to try and stop it from happening. “I’ll be there by your side. Always and forever, okay?”

 That night, Quinn got up from the couch she’d been camped out on and crawled into bed next to Josie. They fell asleep like that, curled up together like they’d only ever been able to do in a bed of hay, and it must’ve been the best Quinn slept in a long, long time.

 

 

**1955.**

It had been a _decade_ since Quinn lost Steve and Bucky.

 _Ten whole years_ …

 The hospital where she’d been on her second year of residency let her have the day off because they knew who she was and it was almost like they were scared she’d break down on them. Quinn tried to make them rethink it because now that she lived in New York—once she showed up for that interview two years back, she never seemed to leave, especially since most of her friends were there now and Bucky’s family was there, too—there was a parade to honor the lives of the two heroes that came from their own streets and, fuck, at least they included Bucky for once. Still, she knew that if she had to sit up in her apartment and listen to a city celebrate what she lost, she’d lose it, she swore to God she would.

The people at the hospital wouldn’t listen and she’d been sent home.

Quinn was about to break out the moonshine she snatched from Pa the last time she visited Kentucky when Ma called and she didn’t know what was worse, the hospital or the fact that Ma walked down into town just to use the phone to call her. She knew Ma wanted to help take her mind off what day it was, but she didn’t want to _talk_ about it, damn it. Quinn wanted to drink until it didn’t hurt no more. So, she lied and told Ma that she had a late shift at the hospital and that she would write soon since, “Long distance calls ain’t cheap, Ma. Get off that phone before it costs you a fortune.” Ma wasn’t happy about it, but she wouldn’t risk Quinn’s delicate position at the hospital, so she relented.

Pegs showed up at the door not ten minutes after she was off the phone. It was like she _sensed_ when Quinn was about to be on her own. Goddamn amazing, that’s what it was. Pegs forced Quinn to get dressed because she’d be having lunch with her and Daniel. “I’m not hungry,” hadn’t been a good enough excuse, apparently, and neither was, “I wanna be _alone_.” If Quinn wasn’t so sure that Peggy would’ve knocked her on her ass for it, she’d throw a punch, she was so mad and fed up with how everyone tried to _baby her_.

Obviously, Quinn wasn’t about to win, so she ended up at Peggy’s place for dinner. Pegs and Daniel are a lot more subtle about their touches and looks, what with broken little Quinn Hayden around them, but it _hurts_. It hurts, it hurts, it _hurts_. So, when Pegs shooed her and Daniel out to the couch where she could serve up some tea, Quinn knew it was rude, but she left their place with a mumbled, “I don’t feel so swell. I’m headed home.” She couldn’t stand to be around people anymore. Quinn made it to her apartment with dry eyes, but the second her door was closed, she slide down against it, curled in on herself, and started to bawl.

It had been tear years that she was on her feet and she hoped to God that Steve and Bucky could forgive her, but she just couldn’t stand up no more. And, Christ, did she try to stop the tears, tried to be that brave and stubborn person that everyone knew her for, told herself that she only spent two years with them and they’d been gone ten, she _needed to get over it_ , but that made it so much worse. So much had been taken from her—from _all of them_. 

Quinn stumbled to her feet and damn near ran to the moonshine. It had been the same after Josie broke it off with her and she said she wouldn’t deal with her problems with booze anymore, but she wasn’t perfect. She’d make the same goddamn mistakes over and over if it would stop the pain—she knew that now. So, she started in on the liquor, almost threw up with how much she sucked down in one gulp because that shit burned, but she needed it. Fuck, she needed it like air.

She couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle all the _wasted_ possibilities that ran through her head— _we would’ve traded rings with each other, we could live together and no one would care because they’re Captain America and Bucky Barnes, war heroes_ and goddamn it, goddamn her traitor brain, goddamn her but she thought _we could’ve started us a family by now, too_.  

So, Quinn drank and drank and when she put at least a fourth of it down, she realized that she was nowhere near shit-faced. She remembered how Steve had tried in that bombed-out pub ten years ago but couldn’t because of his metabolism and how it burned too quick. It horrified her, what that meant, and she stumbled to the bathroom, decided to chug as much as she could in one go, and _hoped_ that it was just the slow rate that she drank at that was what kept her from getting drunk. She threw up at the horrible burn it lit up down her throat and into her belly, but she did it again, kept it down, and went and went.

It didn’t _work_ and it was yet another reason added on top of the massive pile of _shit_ that made Quinn curl up under her blankets and cry herself to sleep.


	4. 1956-1965

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn can't ignore it any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally, I've had a timeline of the United States history tab open the whole time I've been writing. Yikes. I really need to brush up on my American history, yo. Anyway, the Civil Rights Movement is a super major part of this chapter.

**1956.**

Somehow, people seemed to know exactly when Quinn made it to her apartment. As she threw her shoes across the room, she picked up her telephone that had started up as soon as she walked in the door, and on the other end of the line, Liam immediately blurted, “I want to ask Sophia to marry me.” 

 

In Quinn’s defense, she had worked a double at the hospital, so she hadn’t exactly been there the whole way, mentally. So, she had hummed, “That’s nice, Liam.” Then, it _finally_ sunk in, what he’d said, and she shouted, “Wait, _what_? Holy _fuck_ , Liam!” Her mouth immediately started to run. “That’s amazin’ news! You need some money to buy you a rock? ‘Cause I can foot you some, if yah want! Oh, you _did_ ask Momma DuPont ahead of time and have yah told Ma and Pa yet? I—” 

 

“Quinn, holy shit, shut the fuck up,” Liam breathed out and sounded scared as shit which made her brows knit in concern. “No, I don’t even know if I wanna do this. I…I wanted to talk to you—” he took a deep breath and Quinn could hear him slump down to the floor. Quinn, in the middle of her apartment, did the same. “Do you remember the letter you sent me in the middle of the war? The one where you told me—” 

 

“I remember it, yeah,” Quinn interrupted and huffed out a laugh. “Hey, you know what? I was drunk as shit when I wrote you that.” That had been immediately after she’d blurted out who her soulmates were and she warned Liam that it would be hard on him and Sophia since their skin colors didn’t match, that they should pretend to date other people, but to always come back to one another when those fake relationships were over. “I sent it on, though, ‘cause it was true.” 

 

Liam was quiet a minute or two. “What if…what if I want us to—I don’t _want_ to pretend no more,” he admitted quietly. “I wanna buy a house and I wanna come home to Sophia every day. It’s true, that me ‘n her can’t ever be a man ‘n wife by the law, but…” Liam upset easy when he couldn’t articulate himself well, so he moaned in frustration now. “I _love_ her so much, Quinn, but there’s so many damn people that would _hurt her_ if they knew ‘bout us. Am I a bad person ‘cause I don’t care ‘bout those assholes and want to ask her to marry me anyhow?” 

 

“No, Liam,” Quinn answered honestly. “I don’t think you’re a bad person one bit.” It seemed that trouble ran in their blood because not only did Quinn have to worry about how the world saw her and her soulmates, but Liam had to worry about it now, too. “Look, I…I wanna admit somethin’ to yah, and…promise not to hate me after, okay?” 

 

Quinn could hear Liam frown on the other end. “I couldn’t ever hate you, Sissy.” 

 

Jesus, he hadn’t called her that in a hell of a while, but it made her choke up all the same. Time fucking _flew_. “I…I, um, I like ladies _and_ fellas, okay? Only reason I tell you that is ‘cause me ‘n Josie, we went steady in secret.” 

 

A pause and she could also hear the way Liam scrunched up his nose. Quinn prepared herself for the blow, for the disgust, or maybe for the click where he would hang up on her. Instead, he blew her away with, “You dated _Josie_? You couldn’t’ve picked someone… _nicer_? Josie is mean as hell.” 

 

Yeah, okay, that was her brother for you. She’d admitted that she was—would it be halfway queer since she liked fellas as much as ladies? She wasn’t so sure what she would be considered. Anyway, she had told him the truth about who she was and his problem was that she dated Josie.  

 

“Josie is a sweetheart. You only say that ‘cause Sophia and Josie fight like cats ‘n dogs whenever they see each other.” Quinn had a point somewhere. “Anyway, we had to be real careful how we acted around each other when we wasn’t alone, so you have to be smart. It almost cost us—you remember when I was in the hospital, yeah?” 

 

Liam sensed the turn in the conversation and he was such a smart cookie. “Jesus _fuck_ , Quinn, did…did the Klan find out ‘bout y’all?” 

 

“I don’t want this to—you love Sophia and I swear to God, me and Josie would march our asses down there to keep you two safe. You love, her, you wanna marry her, then you _do_ it. I only told you that ‘cause I want you to know that you have to be smart. I’ll do whatever I can to help, okay?” 

 

“I’m so scared I’m ‘bout to throw up. That’s normal, ain’t it?” Liam shakily asked. 

 

“That’s love, baby brother.” Because she couldn’t help it, she teased, “But, hey, you know she has to actually say _yes_ to your ugly mug, right?” 

 

 

The ceremony—if someone could say that’s actually what it was—had been small. No one even took the chance to ask for a pastor. It was a nice sunny day and Ma, Pa, Momma DuPont, Josie, and Quinn were there to watch as Liam and Sophia put wedding bands on each other and recited vows. Underneath the picnic table they sat and watched it happen at, Josie had took Quinn’s hand in her, and Quinn was woman enough to admit that she definitely cried like a baby. 

 

“Mama wants to let ‘em have the house,” Josie explained later, as the two of them sat on the dock, feet in the water. “It ain’t much, but it’s a start. I think she’ll drop it on ‘em after they have their honeymoon night. I think I wanna ask Mama to move to Louisville with me.” 

 

“That’s nice ah yah,” Quinn answered and elbowed Josie in the side. “And those there lovebirds say that you’re nasty and mean.” 

 

Josie laughed. “You know the truth and that’s what matters.” When she turned to stare at Quinn, her expression saddened and she reached out to brush a hand over the scar on Quinn’s temple. “ _Mon doux amour_ ,” she breathed out and slowly leaned forward to brush her lips across Quinn’s. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

 

“No. It was the best,” Quinn choked out and kissed Josie back, one last time. 

 

Maybe if they were born in another time, if they had been born as other people with the same souls, then maybe it could’ve worked out between Quinn and Josie, but that hadn’t been how the cards were dealt to them. They had been ripped apart from each other and Quinn went to war and found love while Josie went to Louisville and made a new life for herself. 

 

How Quinn saw it was that there, on that dock, she and Josie were finally able to mourn what they had lost, _truly_ mourn it, and with each other. Sure, back in the war, when she realized that she loved Steve and Bucky, she had put what she and Josie had in a special place in her heart, had put it in its own grave of sorts at the same time, but…it seemed better to do it now, with Josie at her side. 

 

Closure, Quinn realized in a daze, what they had now was _closure_. 

 

 

**1957.**  

On a day in June, Quinn marched into the diner that her, Dum-Dum, Jim, and Pegs were supposed to meet at to have lunch, and announced proudly and maybe a bit too loud that, “I’m an aunt!”  

 

“Don't stand there like a mook then!” Dum-Dum shouted back at her as he hopped to his feet and opened his arms wide, ready to wrap her up in his arms. “Get your dumb ass over here and tell us ‘bout the kid! 

 

Then, when she reached the table, and was out of Dum-Dum’s monster hug, she proceeded to tell them every tiny detail about the newest addition to the Hayden clan, Thomas Lawrence Hayden. 

 

Once Quinn was done with her rant about the baby, Dum-Dum blurted nervously, “I met my soulmate.” 

 

A second later, after he started to crack up, Jim told them, “Hey, funny story, I’m about to marry mine. I wanted Quinn to be my best man.” 

 

“Hell no, Morita.” Dum-Dum leaned over to wrap an arm around Quinn’s shoulders and tucked her up to his side. “I call Quinn as my best man.” Jim, eyes narrowed, opened his mouth, and Dum-Dum quickly added, “You can’t have Peggy, either!” 

 

Pegs snorted. “You can’t have two best men, Dum-Dum.” 

 

“Yeah, and have you even asked this lady on a date yet? God’s sake, man, you have it bad already,” Quinn drawled and went back to her lunch, but she smiled the whole rest of the day, she was so happy for everyone. 

 

 

**1960.**  

It hadn’t been the best time, but Quinn didn’t think there ever would be a nice time to admit to it. 

 

Quinn reckoned that Ma and Pa deserved to know before anyone else. So, she asked them to come spend some time up in New York with her. In Ma and Pa fashion, the two of them complained the whole time about how she paid for their tickets, that they could’ve very well handled it, and she tried to smile, but all she could think about was how much older the two of them looked now. They were both in their sixties. 

 

“Quinn, honey,” Ma started quietly when Quinn sat them down at her kitchen table and started to make them some dinner since their plane came in later than expected. “What’s ah matter? You ain’t said two words since we landed.” 

 

She took a deep breath and scooped some bacon onto a plate in the middle of the table. It was hard to look at them when she explained, “In the war, before I met—anyways, my unit of nurses, we was captured by Hydra, and you know ‘bout them.” Pa hacked like he was about to spit at the name, but Ma sent him a sharp look, and he stopped. Quinn did smile then because that there was where that habit came from, her Pa. “I…some experiments was done on me. I never said a word ‘bout ‘em to y’all because the doctors told me they couldn’t see no evidence of any kind of problems.” Quinn barked out a bitter laugh. “I’m startin’ to think they was wrong.” 

 

Pa frowned and snatched her wrist when she went to walk away, back toward the stove. Then, he wrapped his hand around hers. “Quinn, babby, what d’yah mean?” 

 

“I need y’all to look at me— _really_ look at me,” she whispered and waved toward her face, toward the rest of her body. “Ma, Pa, I am supposed to be forty in November— _forty_. Do I look like a forty-year-old lady to you?” She scrubbed a hand across her face. “I’ve pretended that there’s nothin’ the matter with me, but there is. There _is_ ,” she breathed out. 

 

Ma rushed to her feet and Quinn tried not to wince when she cupped Quinn’s cheeks in her hands and stared at her with wet eyes. “Got that Jackson blood in yah, ‘s all that is, baby girl. Why, do I look sixty? No, I don’t. Us Jackson women look—” 

 

Quinn shook her head then put her hands over Ma’s. “I love you, Ma, but don’t do that. Please don’t treat this as if it’s normal. This ain’t—I’m not—” she closed her eyes. “I don’t look a day older than I did in the war, okay? I’m near ten years older than Liam and a person couldn’t tell that if he looked at us now.” Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around Ma and muttered, “I wanted you two here ‘cause I’m _scared_.” 

 

Pa hopped up to his feet then and moved over to them so he could wrap his arms around them both. “We have yah,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. “We have yah, babby.” 

 

 

The smartest way to take her next step would be to head to SHIELD—well, Pegs, to be more specific. Then, she’d decided that Dum-Dum should’ve been there to hear the news, too. Jim had done moved back to Fresno with his sweetheart to settle down and to also take care of his own parents, but she’d have to call him later about it, maybe visit. Anyway, before Quinn could even start to explain to them what she had to Ma and Pa, she’d broken down into tears because how had she never even noticed those silver hairs that had started to show at the corner of Peggy’s temples before? And, God bless him, there was some silver that started to show in Dum-Dum’s dumb mustache, too. 

 

Both her best friends—because who could she kid at this point, Dum-Dum was one of her dearest friends—were there to hold her up as she broke down. Jesus, she needed to quit with the goddamn hysterics. Once she was done, Pegs, who had pressed her cheek to Quinn’s, whispered, “I swear to you that every resource at my disposal will be used to help us understand this. I…have an idea, one that you won’t particularly love, but…” 

 

“Well, don’t’ beat around the bush then.” Quinn took the tissues that Dum-Dum had shoved in front of her face once she had started to bawl. She was proud to admit that he was a whole lot better when it came to women and tears. “Spit it out. I can take it.” 

 

“We should start at the source of your problems, the man behind…the—your version of the serum.” Dum-Dum snarled out some curses and Quinn stared at Pegs as if she’d lost her goddamn mind. “I said you wouldn’t like it, but it’s the best place to start, Quinn. There’s no one else who could possibly understand what was put in your body better than the creator himself.” 

 

“I take it back, I can’t take it. _Goddamn it_ ,” she shouted and stormed to her feet, threw the box of tissues across the room. “Fine!” As much as she hated the idea, loathed that bastard, it was the best option they had at the moment. “But don’t put that squirmy little fuck anywhere near me, understand?” 

 

“Of course I wouldn’t put you anywhere near that fuck. What kind of person do you take me for?” Prim Peggy answered immediately and as Dum-Dum sputtered, it made Quinn smile a bit, even with the current situation as it was. 

 

 

“Ah, Director Carter,” Zola purred and Dum-Dum had to squeeze Quinn’s arm so she wouldn’t punch the mirror and alert him to them on the other side of it. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you come to check on my work? I believe our next appointment wasn’t for another two weeks.” He looked around the room that would’ve been used for an interrogation and raised a brow. “My office would have been an acceptable place to meet, yes?” 

 

An _office_ —the bastard had an _office_. “In November of 1943, under Johann Schmidt, you took prisoners and experimented on them. You wanted to recreate Doctor Erskine’s super soldier serum, didn’t you? Were you ever able to examine the side effects in depth?” 

 

Zola cocked his head to the side and scoffed. “How would I be able to do that, Director Carter? Only two people survived my experiments. One has, unfortunately, died. The other…how is Doctor Hayden?” 

 

“Unfortunately? _Unfortunately_! You’re the reason he died in the first place, you goddamn mother _fucker_ —” Understandably, Dum-Dum decided she wasn’t in the best place to watch the interview, and tried to pull her away by force, but she still lashed out and kicked the glass. The two-way mirror suddenly cracked and splintered before it shattered to pieces and Dum-Dum let her free from the headlock out of shock. 

 

Pegs had jumped out of her seat, too, in her own surprise, but Zola had stayed there in his seat. Sweetly, he inquired, “Oh, Doctor Hayden, there you are. How are you?” 

 

 

In Quinn’s defense, when the fuck would there have ever been a need for her to know what exactly the extent of her physical limitations were? Lord, but she couldn’t even use that as an excuse, could she?  

 

Back in the war, Quinn had started to notice that, at bare minimum, her senses started to enhance, but that had seemed to level out over the years. Loud noises hadn’t overwhelmed her since…probably when she headed to New York her very first time. It hadn’t been that alone, in the war—that bad mission in France, when she’d almost died, hell, she’d noticed how quicker than normal she healed. Not to mention that, after she’d been on bedrest for weeks to recover, as soon as she went back into the field, she’d been able to keep up with super soldier Steve, no problem. 

 

Fuck, how hadn’t she realized it sooner? Maybe that nasty ass serum that Zola shot her up with hadn’t been so defective after all. 

 

At the very start, blood samples had been taken. Zola was, without a doubt, put out of the picture, so the only other person who had experience with super soldier serums was Howard, so Pegs went and put him on the case with them. Quinn had been surprised Stark even had the time of day for them, what with how focused he’d been on Stark Industries over the past few years. 

 

Doctors rushed past Quinn with her blood and, as Howard instructed them on what to do with said samples, she frowned and glanced over at Peggy. “Do you trust Howard?” Maybe she could forgive, but she’d never forget what Howard had done with Steve’s blood. “If this serum _is_ makin’ me—I don’t want my blood to be a curse for other people, is all. So,” Pegs looked over at her then, brows furrowed, “do you trust Howard?” 

 

“Howard is…Howard,” Pegs answered and sounded no less troubled. “I would prefer to be here with you, as support, but I can supervise the scientists and make sure none of them are one of Howard’s little corporate spies, if you prefer.” 

 

The nurses had put some clothes beside Quinn to put on because they’d needed as much skin available as possible to monitor her vitals for the next portion of their tests. “You do what you think is best. You keep in touch with him more than me. Maybe he’s not such an asshole anymore, I don’t know.” 

 

“Howard understands machines, but has no idea how to read people.” A hand brushed over Quinn’s upper arm and she couldn’t help but cover Peggy’s hand with hers. “So, I think I’ll stay here with you to make sure _neither_ you nor Howard push too hard. I can send Daniel down to the labs.” 

 

Quinn squeezed Peggy’s hand hard. “Thank you.” 

 

 

Morbidly curious, that was what Quinn was when she asked to see exactly how fast she could run before they started any other tests. Before Hydra had shot her down in the street, she remembered that she had run faster than ever before, and that she hadn’t even broken a sweat.  

 

And, as it turned out, she could now run very, very, very, very, _very fucking fast_.  

 

When she came back around the runners track, Howard and his scientists babbled and he wildly waved around the stopwatch in his hand. “They’re not sure about how accurate the results are,” Pegs started, wide-eyed as she looked at Quinn, “but they…think that you’re faster than Steve ever was.” 

 

“…what?” Quinn shook her head. Sure, she had run quick, but _that_ fast? “No, no, no, that ain’t true. Do you remember that raid on we made on Schmidt, before…y’know. I couldn’t keep up with him then! Now, they wanna say that I’m _faster_?” 

 

“Do you even realize how quickly you moved? Quite frankly, you were a blur at times—” 

 

“We need to run more tests.” 

 

 

A fuck-ton of data had been collected on her—how fast she could run, how much she could lift, the extent of her senses. Quinn called it quits when they wanted to test how quick she healed because she hated to almost murder a man when she went back to those days under Zola’s knife. 

 

It took time to run and understand what the data pointed to and when Howard wanted her to come back in, she made sure Ma and Pa came with her. Both Pegs and Dum-Dum were there, too, in the corners of the room, behind Howard who had papers scattered across her desk. It felt…too much like when she herself had to pass on bad news to people who came to see her at the hospital. 

 

“It’s taken time to settle, but it’s there now, the serum,” Howard started without preamble. “You can out bench the strongest man on this planet, but you’re not close to where Steve had been.” She tried not to wince at the name. “But the speed—it’s faster than Steve ever dreamed to be. You’re the fastest person on this planet, undoubtedly.” Howard scoured around in the paperwork. “Metabolism is faster than his, too—we think about six to his four. You probably heal at a much quicker rate, but we can substantiate that since you didn’t let us—” Dum-Dum cleared his throat and Howard waved him off. “We don’t know about the aging.” 

 

Quinn rubbed her forehead. “What do you _mean_ you don’t know about the _aging_?” 

 

“Exactly what I said, Hayden,” he shot back and sighed, dropped the papers on his desk and looked her square in the eye. “It’s been, what? Almost twenty years since you were given the serum? You look a little older, I think?” Howard hated when he didn’t understand any science immediately off the bat, so he didn’t seem happy to admit he had no idea about this. “By our calculations, it’s one physical year for every decade.” 

 

“No. Fuck _no_. Are you fuckin’—no, fuck you, that’s not—” Quinn stormed to her feet and Peggy rushed over to put her hands on Quinn’s arms. Pegs tried to whisper, “Calm down. Your parents are here. You must calm down,” but Quinn shook her head. “You can’t be _serious_!” she screamed. “After two hundred years then _maybe I’ll look fuckin’ forty_?” She couldn't help but reach out and throw the desk over, but she miscalculated and it flew against the wall instead. “ _Fuck_!” 

 

Pa had been the only person to ease her down when he stood up and wrapped his arms around her. “Leave now,” she heard Pegs bark at Howard and Dum-Dum as Pa dropped her back down in her seat. 

 

“Let it out,” Ma ordered quietly. 

 

Quinn screamed. 

 

\--- 

 

Howard knocked on her door near the middle of the year, after Thomas’s third birthday, actually, and Quinn debated what would be better—to slam the door then and there and mess up that moneymaker face or invite him in and feel his nose break under her hand when she, no doubt, would have to punch him. When she decided that the latter would be better, without a word, she stepped to the side and let him on in. 

  

“We need to talk,” Howard started the conversation with, rather than some Stark snark, so whatever he wanted with her, it must’ve been business. Of course, when followed up with, “Peggy doesn’t know I’m here and she wouldn’t approve of this chat between us,” she was immediately suspicious and had every reason to be. “She wants to leave you be especially after what happened at the start of the year.” 

  

“But not you, huh,” Quinn remarked dryly. 

  

“Look, I’m not sure what you’re told by her when you two talk, but the situation our country’s in with the Soviets is a bad one.” Well, no _shit_. A normal person out on the streets could’ve told him that. “They’re toe-to-toe with us on _every front_ , but we do have an ace up our sleeve, one they couldn’t possibly hope to have.” She waited for him to reveal said ace and when more than a minute passed, he raised an eyebrow at her. “You,” he elaborated. “We have _you_.”  

  

Oh, for _fuck’s sake_. “No. Absolutely not,” she shot him down then and there, without a second to think about it otherwise. “Maybe it slipped that super smart mind of yours, but I’m a doctor. I won’t head out overseas to—” 

  

“—help make our country secure, to possibly prevent a nuclear war.” She scoffed at the bullshit excuse of his. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re a super soldier, Hayden, and you’re the only one this country has now. You can be a hero again.” 

   

As if Quinn could give a shit about whether or not she was a hero and the last that she checked, “Isn’t what I do at the hospital decent hero’s work?” 

  

“Don’t act so much better than the rest of us because you’re a doctor now. Tell me, weren’t you a nurse when you stormed those Hydra bases after the war and massacred them?” She tensed up and he snorted. “What? You think we haven’t known? No one cares about it. It was a war then and it’s a war now.” 

  

“Get out,” Quinn snarled. 

  

“You don’t want to be a hero to the people, fine, but you _can_ be a hero to Peggy.” Now _that_ had been a low blow. She was a second away from that punch. “You two talk, but has she told you that she spends most time at the office now? She _sleeps_ there most nights. Obviously, it doesn’t make for the happiest home.” Howard put on a concerned front, but Quinn knew what he wanted from her. He wanted to make a goddamn weapon out of her. “It would mean a lot to her, I’m sure.”  

  

 “Fuck you, Stark. Get the fuck outta here.” 

  

To be a real bastard, Howard murmured, “Fine, I see how it is. Twenty years later and the only people whose asses you’re stuck up are two dead men. You’d burn the world down for them, but not for your best friend?” It wouldn’t be one punch. She would bash his _face_ in. She would murder him and throw his body into the river where the fucking fish probably wouldn’t even sleep with him.  

  

Prideful as she was and as much as she wanted to tell him no out of spite, the briefest mention of her Pegs made Quinn’s resolve take a serious blow. “You…you _swear_ to me that it’ll help _her_ and not you and I’ll…I’ll do it.” 

  

  

Make no mistake about it—Quinn would do whatever she could to make sure that Pegs kept happy because she deserved that. Okay, she deserved the world actually, but not even a super soldier could hand over that, so she stuck with dumbass Howard’s recommendation of taking SHIELD missions. 

  

Pegs, however, had not been happy when Quinn came to her office and told her that she’d taken a leave from the hospital to help out with SHIELD. “You have no idea what kind of burden this would put on you,” she warned Quinn. “Once they hear of this, the government won’t stop until they have you at their disposal. You have no duty to anyone merely because you’re a—” 

  

“I’m a super soldier. Shouldn’t waste this, yeah?” Quinn chewed on her bottom lip and played dirty with, “This is—Steve would want me to do this, wouldn’t he?” Pegs started to crack and Quinn forced a smile. “Besides, I came up with the idea of this place, so I think it’s time to step up to the plate.” 

  

\--- 

  

Around November, after she had trained her ass off for months to harness her newfound super soldier abilities, Howard asked her up to his office. When she walked inside, Dum-Dum boomed with, “You’re outta your goddamn mind, Howie. You can’t ask her—hey, Quinn!” he greeted cheerily when he whirled around and saw her in the doorway. 

  

“Don’t baby her,” Pegs barked and before she turned on Howard, she warned Quinn that, “This is in no way an insult to your skill.” Then, to Howard, she snapped, “Quinn has never been out on the field before— _since_ 1946,” she added quickly when Quinn opened her mouth to protest. “She has trained, yes, but she is no way prepared to handle whatever that monstrosity of the Soviets has.” 

  

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “I think I could take him—whoever your monster is.” 

  

“The Soviets call him the Winter Soldier, we think.” She raised an eyebrow at Dum-Dum and he frowned. “We have to rely on what our spies tell us ‘cause anytime we send men up against this asshole, no one ever makes it back alive.” 

  

“When’d you start believin’ in scary stories?” she teased and Dum-Dum didn’t seem to think it was funny, so she sobered up herself. “So he’s decent. I’m better, I bet. Fuck it, I’ll take him on. What’s the worst that can happen?” 

  

“You _die_ , Quinn,” Peggy screamed as she slammed a clenched fist down on Howard’s table and everyone, Quinn included, blinked at her in surprise. “How can you be so nonchalant about this? I refuse to let you do this. I won’t risk you—” she cut herself off and crossed her arms over her chest, scowled at the nearest wall. 

  

There was…a whole lot that Quinn wanted to say, but she settled on, “Go home, Pegs. Go take care of Daniel and spend some time with those kiddos of yours.” Peggy’s eyes moved over to lock with hers and Quinn smiled half heartedly. “Don’t worry about me. Lord knows you don’t need no more on your plate.” 

  

And, hey, if she _did_ end up dead, hopefully she could take the bastard down with her. 

  

  

Either the informant himself had been lied to or the man had been a dirty liar himself and sent them into a trap, but it wasn’t as if Quinn could interrogate the man since his head had literally been crushed by a metal hand. It was probably meant to be a trap for her and the Soviets didn’t care about casualties which was why he was deemed expendable. Also, it made sense as to why none of her team had come to her aid. The base was small, noise was supposed to travel, but apparently the Winter Soldier had been properly named because he took her men down without a sound much like winter winds that crept in houses and sickened and killed people. 

 

The soldier stood up from where he had been crouched over the now-dead spy and Quinn was reminded of the terrible winters where there was never a sound, where the cold had either sent them away or murdered all the creatures that made noises. A mask covered the bottom of his face and his dark hair was unkempt, his gray eyes blank yet sharp. The metal arm with a blood red star on the deltoid muscle gleamed menacingly. 

 

But Quinn? She wasn’t scared for a second of the Winter Soldier. Before she pissed on their ashes, Hydra used to whisper _Fenrir_ in terror whenever she was around and this man would end up the same way. What happened to wolves when they had to face down brutal winters? They turned even more vicious. 

 

Quinn launched herself at the man, knee aimed to strike him in the stomach—a move that Pegs taught her. The sudden burst of speed took him for a loop and he grunted, but didn’t double over like she wanted. He lashed that arm to the side and she ducked to miss it, but made herself wide open to take a knee to the nose. Quinn had to breathe past the sudden rush of blood from her broken nose. 

 

She swiped her legs out and knocked his feet clean out from under him. Quickly, she decided that inside real narrow halls wouldn’t exactly be the best place to start a fight with an asshole that had a metal arm, so while he recovered, she rolled to her feet and darted toward the entrance of the base. An open area with more room to move and retreat, if need be, was best to have. 

 

Problem with that plan had been that she turned her back on her opponent and she didn’t need to reiterate the point, but they _were_ in a real narrow hallway. So, there hadn’t been room to move when a knife sailed through the air and embedded itself in the place above her hip—damn near the same spot that she’d been shot back in France. Unlike back then, though, she gritted her teeth against the pain and threw herself out into the snow before the round he blasted after her could hit, too. 

 

Motherfucker, the mission had went to hell in a handbasket.  

 

Quinn moaned in pain as she, as quickly as someone in her situation could do since she had to be careful of her attacker with his weapon but also careful that she didn’t rip anymore of her insides to pieces, she pulled the blade out of her back. Quick as a whip, she whirled around to launch the same blade at the Soldier, and he shouted when it hit him in the flesh shoulder. 

 

It would’ve been the perfect opportunity for her to run, but she was Quinn Hayden, and she stuck to her usual philosophy of _fuck it_ , so she tackled the man to the ground there in the snow. Handcuffs wouldn’t work on him and she only had one pair, so she’d have to knock him out cold before he tried to subdue him which was fine by her.  

 

She reached out to shove the blade deeper in and make it hurt to distract him, but he threw himself up and head-butted her so hard it split open her forehead. Then, a hard metal fist acquainted itself with the side of her head, and she went down into the snow with the first headache she’d had since the war probably. 

 

Dazedly, Quinn realized that she’d had her ass whooped real damn good—bad—what-the-fuck-ever. She rolled over in the snow and stared up at the blue skies for a moment before the Winter Soldier appeared in her line of sights, barrel of his gun aimed at her head. Oh. So, maybe it hadn’t been a trap after all. Maybe he was well-informed, took her out before the others since she was strongest of the lot. Hell, maybe he wanted to scare her into submission…as if Quinn didn’t dream about the days that she’d meet her boys.  

 

So, with no fear whatsoever, she spat at his shoes with the blood that’d dripped down from her broken nose into her mouth, and snarled, “Do it.” He made no move whatsoever and she stared up into his eyes that were so…they were the same color, weren't they? These eyes were cold, but she'd see the warm ones soon enough. “Goddamn it, _do it already_.”  

 

More uncertainty flickered behind the man’s eyes and he reached down to brush a thumb over the scar at her temple. “Ваше имя Куинн Эстер Хайден.” And she swore that somewhere in that Russian, she heard her name. “Вы не можете напугать меня.”  

 

Quinn should’ve paid more attention to his hands, not that sweet, sweet voice, because he backhanded her across the head with that goddamn metal hand, so hard that it must’ve knocked her out because she knew that what happened next had been a dream.  

 

As the darkness had crept into her vision, the man had peeled away that mask and underneath it had been her sweet boy Bucky. She had reached out to brush the tips of her fingers over his, maybe had whispered, “ _Bucky_ _?_ ” but it was a stupid dream. 

 

A damned dream… 

 

…and when she woke up, it was to a painful, lonely world. 

 

Pegs, at the very least, had been there to dry up her tears and whisper, “I know it hurts. I’ll fetch the doctors to administer more medicine—” but Quinn shook her head and held on hard. Steve and Bucky would never come back, but she had her lovely Pegs to share the pain of her soulmates with. It was a kind of pain that no medicine would ever help. She should know. She was a doctor. “You can’t scare me that way anymore,” Peggy had choked out and crawled into the hospital bed with Quinn, curled around her. “I can’t lose you, too.” 

 

 

**1963.**

Thank God that Quinn had been on American soil when Josie called and not on a mission because it would’ve been damned awkward to shut it down in the middle. Determined and so, so brave, Josie explained, “It’s been a hundred years since Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation and I was almost lynched because I loved you and people saw that as a bad thing. I want to be with the March on Washington and I wanted to know if you’d be there with me.” 

 

“Every step of the way,” Quinn swore. 

 

 

There were people who immediately pointed Quinn out in the crowd—hundreds of thousands of people and they _still found her_ —and some of them even had the audacity to tell her to head up there and say a speech her own about the cause. Instead, she told each and every one of them that, “People listen to my voice. I’m here to support the people whose voices are talked over every damn day.” 

 

Later that day, in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Quinn had held Josie’s hand so hard that she was sure she’d bruised it and the two of them watched, in tears, as Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. declared, “ _I have a dream_ …” 

 

\--- 

 

In Alabama, at a goddamn _church_ where people were supposed to be safe, four little black girls were murdered in an explosion by the Klan. Quinn threw every resource she had to help find the bastards who had done it, had even asked SHIELD for help, but time passed, people mourned, and _they couldn’t find out who had done it_. 

 

It was yet another bitter reminder to both Quinn and Josie that, even with Quinn’s white skin and the hundreds of resources at her hands that not many black people would ever be able to have, there wasn’t any justice for black people—not even four baby girls. 

 

\--- 

 

“You do realize that this is the president of the United States, don’t you?” Pegs had hissed on the other end of the telephone and Quinn winced. “This is the _president_ and you want me to tell him _no_ , you can’t come. He wants you to be there in the car with himself and the First Lady, do you know that?” 

 

Quinn, who hadn’t been able to put her shirt back on, rubbed at the darkened name. “I know. I…I know. I—” 

 

“Why can’t you be here, Quinn? I could understand if you were with your friend in the movement, but—tell me why you won't be here with me.” 

 

As she squeezed her eyes shut, through gritted teeth she admitted, “My mark is…dark. I don’t think that Mister President or me would be very comfortable if I broke down there in front of him ‘n all those people, okay?” 

 

Peggy took a deep breath on the other end and Quinn heard it come a mile away. “Damn you, Quinn. How many more years? _Tell me_. How many more years will you let your bloody marks have this much power over you?” She stopped herself and whispered, “I’m sorry. That was—” 

 

“—what you and every other goddamn person in the world think when they look at me. Yeah, I know that.” Quinn dug her fingers into the skin of her stomach, over the name, watched as little droplets of red oozed out. “I don’t know what to tell you, Pegs.” Then, she proceeded to rip the phone from the wall and threw it across the room. 

 

 

It turned out that the president never even made it to the luncheon that Quinn, Peggy, and Howard had been invited to. He’d been assassinated there in the car. She should've been there, should've taken that bullet for him, and because she had been too weak, those poor kids of his wouldn't ever see their old man again and the poor First Lady would have to relive her soulmate's death over and over again. 

 

Curled up on the couch, as she watched the reporter tearfully announce that the president was dead, Quinn numbly scored bloody marks across her skin again and whispered, “I wish I’d never met either of you.” 

 

 

**1964.**  

Quinn wanted to be there with Josie to help with Freedom Summer, where they could help black people finally register to vote, and who better to protect both volunteers and the people who wanted to vote than a super soldier. Before she did that, she bucked up and took both Peggy and Dum-Dum's advice to have doctors examine her over, especially after what happened with poor former President Kennedy.  

  

Over the years, Quinn had come to know Victor Gottschalk pretty well, so it was him that she went to for an opinion on her soulmarks. Plus, it did help narrow her choices what with how he was one of the top scientists when it came to research on soul marks.  

  

"There's no pattern whatsoever?" Victor questioned and she didn't take the tone to heart because they were both doctors. At the moment, they weren't buddies, they were doctor and patient. "To when they appear and disappear?"  

  

"Nope," she answered with a weird sort of detachment. "It's only one name, too, if that makes any kinda difference." 

  

Victor set his clipboard to the side and pinched the bridge of his nose. "May I be frank?" She shrugged, didn't really care, and apparently Victor didn't care much about the patient-doctor professional relationship. Gently, he explained, "You witnessed the explosion that killed your soulmate and his body was buried. You've seen the evidence. Your soulmate is dead, Quinn." 

 

"Tell my body that," she snarled under her breath. 

 

"Grief and stress can do a surprising amount of damage to both the mind and body, you know that, Doctor Hayden. We're not sure about what puts the marks there in the first place, but the body regulates them like it regulates any other bodily function." Carefully, he added, "We know more about what the serum has done to your body, but who's not to say that it isn't also negatively affecting your marks?" 

 

 

"Defective," Quinn sneered the word out to Josie the next time she saw her, about a week later, on their way down to Mississippi for Freedom Summer. "He wouldn't say it to my face, but I can read between the lines. I'm a confirmed defective. Ain't that nice?" 

 

"Hush," Josie immediately shushed. "You're _not_. Doctor told yah it's stress and hurt over the loss of 'em, didn't he?" 

 

Quinn shook her head and scrubbed her hands across her face. "Everyone's startin' to look at me funny now, Josie. Even Ma—she asks if I met any nice fellas in the hospital or SHIELD and—it'll be _twenty years_ next year since they went down. I only spent two years with them, y'know. I shouldn't _be_ hurtin' over the loss of 'em anymore." 

 

Josie reached down to take Quinn's hand. "Yes, you should, because the worst part to you is the fact that you love so damn hard. I tried to save you from yourself, Quinn, but I couldn't 'cause that's who you are. You love too much and that's what's ruined yah." 

 

"I'm tired of this, Josie," she admitted as she tilted her head to the side and leaned it on Josie's shoulder. "I wanna make it stop." 

 

"You couldn't stop your love no more than anyone who meets yah could not love you." Josie squeezed Quinn's hand hard. "You don't deserve it and I'm sorry, but I hate them. Swear to God, I hate them and I know they died heroes, but I wish they'd rot in hell. You don't deserve this, Quinn. You don't deserve it one goddamn bit." 

 

\--- 

 

Josie busted out into tears when they announced to the volunteers that the Civil Rights Act of 1964 had officially been signed into law and Quinn hadn't been able to stop laughing joyfully. 

 

There, in a _goddamn public street_ , in front of God and everyone else, both Quinn and Josie hugged each other and, for the first time since they were born, didn't have to worry about trouble from the law just because they touched. 

 

 

**1965.**

Dum-Dum called it a road trip for freedom that Quinn was on with Josie and that about summed it up nice. The two of them headed from Mississippi to Alabama to march from Selma to Montgomery with hundreds of other people to both celebrate the new bill that was passed and to also protest the injustices that were still being committed despite the new law. 

 

What Quinn hadn't expected were the screams up at the front of the march, where the leaders were. She'd tried to keep in the back with Josie, to make sure that no one made it about her, so when the screams started, she hissed at Josie, "Stay in the _middle_ of the group, okay?" Then, she sprinted ahead. 

 

When a police officer towered over a poor lady, billy club raised above his head, Quinn lashed out to take the blow to her arm instead because it was a _peace protest_ and they'd been told they couldn't fight back. So, she couldn't push back at the police, but she could make sure that no one else took the blows. 

 

"Is there a problem here, officer?" Quinn asked through gritted teeth and held her arm, pretty sure that the blow had fractured, if not broken, the bone. Jesus, what would've been done if that had been an actual normal person who took the blow and not someone amped up with a super soldier serum? 

 

"You're Quinn Hayden!" the officer exploded furiously and, with his billy club, motioned toward the marchers behind her. "You were a war hero! You fought side-by-side with Captain America! Why are you with this trash?" 

 

The police force that had started to violently beat the protesters stopped at the sound of her name and Quinn stared him down hard with a look that Pegs would be proud of. "Captain Rogers would be right here with me if he was alive today…sir," she added sweetly at the end. 

 

The most important part about the whole Bloody Sunday was that someone had taken a picture of Quinn Hayden taking a blow to the head. It made the nation start to pay attention to the movement. When Josie practically forced Quinn to meet Reverend King himself—"He _asked to see yah_ , Quinn, stop fussin' so much."—and he thanked her for her protection, she turned into a nervous wreck and Josie wouldn't stop giggling behind her. 

 

"I'm just sorry that I couldn't help save more people," because, sad as it was to say, there _had_ been people who still died under her watch. She should've been more vigilant. "But I swear that I'll do whatever I can to help and protect y'all, Reverend King, sir." 

 

"Thank you for your support, Miss Hayden." 

 

Quinn couldn't help but blurt, "Do you mind that we take a picture together? I'd love to show off how I met yah to my friends 'n family." 

 

Everyone laughed at the request and Quinn hadn't a clue as to why, but she got the picture, anyway. Later, Josie, who wouldn't stop laughing and Quinn loved to see her so happy for once, explained, "One of the most famous white ladies in the whole country askin' a black man for a picture with him, bein' polite, it's amazin', is all."


	5. 1966-1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness is something that Quinn can never seem to have too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I love my daughter, Quinn," I say as I put her through the fucking ringer. Why am I such a terrible person? Yikes. This one is super duper sad, y'all. Also, it's really dark there at the end. Honestly, this story is basically becoming one huge ass soap opera. Like, holy fuck.  
> I know I've said it before and I'll say it again, but hopefully the next chapter will be shorter. Be patient with me. I know you guys want Steve to come out of the ice, but I have obviously proven that I am a terrible person who likes to put people in pain. But, seriously, thank you so fucking much for reading this and for also hitting me up on Tumblr. Seriously, [check it out](http://www.quinnhayden.tumblr.com) because we've come up with some seriously nice AU shit on there.

**1966.**

It had happened so quick, it seemed. One second he had been there and then the next, he had been swept away by death. Over the phone, Ma had whispered, “They say he has the black lung,” and Quinn had immediately headed back down to Kentucky, but there hadn’t been shit that she could do.

So, at sixty-six, Emmett Hayden passed on from the world.

Propped up in the hospital bed the best he could, the last conversation he had with Quinn started off, as most between them always had before, with, “Don’t tell your ole lady.” She’d had to hand him some tissues to cover his mouth when he damn near hacked up those busted up lungs of his. “I would’a named yah Quinn whether you came out a lad or lass. The Quinn Hayden who came over here from Ireland, he made a new start, and that’s what you was.” He had cupped her cheek and she’d started to cry then, held onto his hand like that’d somehow keep him there with her a little bit more. “ _You_ was my fresh start, my babby, and I never been prouder ah you.”

Once they’d laid him to rest and put Ma to bed, outside, with her arm wrapped around Liam’s shoulders, he whispered, “He told me to take care of Ma, said to make sure she don’t follow him too soon.” He rubbed at his red eyes. “Don’t worry about her, okay? Me and Sophia can check in on her, every day if we have’t.”

Quinn remembered how non-responsive Ma had been, how Quinn had to damn near open her mouth to make her eat, and eyed the house skeptically, but she kept her doubts to herself and supported Liam a little while more.

\---

Sure enough, as Quinn had expected, it hadn’t even taken six months before Ma ran after Pa into the grave.

It’d happen so much quicker than Pa because Quinn hadn’t even had the chance to head down there to see her before she passed away and it only made her hurt worse. As Liam had put it to her, when she went back down to Kentucky for the funeral, “She was sick, wouldn’t see the doctor no matter what we tried. Guess she didn’t care ‘bout how we felt. She’d rush head-in after Pa.”

Poor Liam—Quinn hadn’t had the heart to tell the kid that it was the price you paid for soulmates. A soul mark was as much a brand of death as it was of love. Marks could be a comfort, to know that there was someone out there who completed you, but when they went away, when you lost a part of your motherfucking soul, how could you move on with that? It would be the same for Liam, probably, if Sophia were to pass on before him.

On her own, down by the lake, Quinn had wondered what that would be like, to be able to follow the person—or people, in her case—you’d handed your soul over to into death, and, swear to God, she was envious of her parents.

 

 

**1967.**

When the news had reached Quinn that any man and woman, no matter the color of their skin, could be married, she had smiled so wide that she was sure her face would crack clear in two.

Excitedly, she had waited by her phone the whole day, and she didn’t even stop to think that it could’ve been someone else when the call finally did come and she picked it up. She had went on and demanded to the person on the other end that, “I want you two to come up here so you can tie the knot proper. Don’t you worry ‘bout the money, either. You can pay me back later, if that’ll make you feel better. Just, y’know, it’d be safer to do it up here in New York rather than down there. Who knows what kinda nutcases would be down there at the courts, waitin’?”

Liam started to crack up on the other end. “Oh fuck, Quinn, do we share a brain or somethin’ now? I was ‘bout to ask you.” After a minute or two of that laughter, she could hear the twerp start to sniffle and her whole expression softened. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered in awe. “It happened. It…actually—we’ve dreamed ah this. There’ll be a piece of paper that’ll make us man ‘n wife.”

“She has to say yes first,” Quinn whispered conspiratorially.

Liam choked out a laugh. “I _hate_ you.”

Screw Liam and Sophia because the cutest part of the whole ceremony had to be, without a doubt, when that sweet, baby—who was actually ten-years-old but was pretty much a baby to the whole family—Thomas proudly strutted down the aisle with his ma and pa’s rings nestled in the middle of a little pillow. Quinn and Josie hadn't been able to stop cooing over him the whole day.

\---

Neither Quinn or Liam had much wanted to celebrate the last Thanksgiving, what with how Ma or Pa wouldn’t have been there, but Sophia insisted that Quinn come back down to Kentucky to celebrate it. She knew that they would want to celebrate her birthday, too, but put Sophia _and_ Josie on Quinn’s case and even _she_ didn’t have the balls to say no to them, so she went.

It had been over a month since Thurgood Marshall had been sworn in to serve as a Justice on the Supreme Court, the first ever black man to do it, and Tommy hadn’t shut about it since. Quinn wasn’t sure about his parents, but she was more than happy to hear him rant excitedly about it the whole time that she was down in Kentucky.

“I wanna be a lawyer, same as him, Auntie Quinn!” he declared loudly and, from across the table, Josie shushed him. “Sorry, Auntie Josie,” he immediately apologized, but didn’t sound like he’d meant it.

Grin on her face, Quinn reached out to snatch him up in her arms. Tommy squealed when she started to tickle him and Josie, again, shushed both of them. “Do you mean that, Tommy?” she then asked when she settled him in her lap and made him look up at her. “It’s kind of early to decide that, ain’t it, Tommy-boy?”

Tommy shook his head so hard that she was sure it would’ve come clean off if it wasn’t attached to his shoulders. “No, it’s _not_. _You_ save people, Auntie Quinn! I want to do that, too, but I don’t have muscles like you.” He squeezed her arms and she had always been real self-conscious of how much thicker she was nowadays, but leave it to Tommy to think muscles on a woman were okay. “But I can be a lawyer! And then I could be a—a—a Justice!” he repeated as both Quinn and Josie supplied him with the word.

Once Quinn had put Tommy back on his feet to head back to his play, her mind immediately started to come up with ideas, and leave it to Josie to walk over, smooth out the wrinkle in Quinn’s brow, and murmur, “Oh no, I know that look. What’s in your head?”

“I have an idea,” she declared. “And it's an actual good one, so don't say nothin’.”

The more she started to think about it, the more nervous it made her to ask it of them. Lord knew that Liam had that Hayden pride in him and he was bound to take her idea as some form of charity. Still, after Tommy had been put to bed, Quinn sat Liam and Sophia down in the kitchen, Josie there with them, and explained, “If it’s okay with y’all, I wanted to…put some money to the side so Tommy could head to school when he’s older.” She rubbed the back of her neck and dropped her eyes down to the floor as she started to lose her bravery. It didn’t seem proper, an aunt to do it, but, “I want to do this for y’all. Hell, he don’t even have to be a lawyer, but I want him to have a chance. The world is so much different than when we was kids like him, so…he has a shot and I want to make sure he can take it.”

When Quinn peeked back up at the two of them, Liam and Sophia looked at each other, had an unspoken conversation, and both of them frowned. “Quinn,” Sophia started softly and turned to look over at Quinn. “You don’t have to do that for Tommy. We’re his mama and papa and we should be the ones to do it.”

It was smartest not to point out that the money Liam made at the mines wasn’t exactly the best to save up for tuition with. What _was_ smart would be to point out that, “If you think this is some kind of charity, it ain’t. If it makes you feel better, you can always add your own pennies to it, too. We have time to save, but I…I wanted to do this.”

Sophia stood to her feet and walked over to wrap her arms around Quinn. “Thank you. You’re such an amazin’ person.” Then, she acted like it was a whisper, but said loudly, “I wish I’d been born with you as my sister instead ah some other people.”

Josie scowled at her little sister. “You’re such a _brat_.”

 

 

**1968.**

As Quinn read over some paperwork about another mission, someone knocked on her door, and she looked up to blink. “Oh, hey there, Daniel,” she chirped and beamed at him. “You sure are a sight for sore eyes. It's been a little while since we talked. How’re yah doin’?”

“I’m—” he closed the door behind him and stayed there to stare at it while he took a few deep breaths.

Quinn, brows furrowed, stood up from her desk and worriedly asked, “Is everything okay?” Suddenly, her stomach tied itself in knots because Pegs hadn't been in the office as much the past week or so. “Jesus, is it Peggy? Is she okay?”

“I'll only ask this once,” he started lowly and turned around to look at her and there was no expression on his face, but she could see the fury behind his eyes. “Are you sleeping with Peggy?”

The question had been so far out there that Quinn had actually opened and closed her mouth a few times in shock. “What…the hell are you on about?” She squinted at him because it had to be some kind of a prank, but he looked dead serious. “Have you been talkin’ to Howard?”

“Oh, believe me, I talked to him, too.” Daniel chuckled darkly as he ran a hand over his face. “But he had a point. Whenever Peggy isn't in her office, she's always in yours. You two are thieves.” It looked like the anger had started to fade to make way for confusion and hurt. “I know about Peggy’s…you know—her preferences, so that's not what I care about. I…” Never mind, he was mad again, or maybe his expression hardened like he was prepared to take a blow. “I have to know if you and Peggy are having an affair. That's all I need to know.”

“No, Daniel, _hell no_.” She shook her head and put every ounce of truth and sincerity into her face and voice. “How could you even think that? Pegs loves you to pieces, Daniel.”

Daniel had barked out a laugh and when he replied with, “Peggy loves someone, Quinn, but I'm not so sure it's me anymore,” it had shaken Quinn to her core for the rest of the day. 

 

Quinn made sure the boys on the squad didn't tell a soul, but her mind had been everywhere so bad that she'd almost died on the mission. It only ended in a gunshot wound that healed up before they even made it to the extraction point, but…yeah, what Daniel said had gotten to Quinn.

It wasn't true. It couldn't have been true. Peggy and Quinn had settled what was between them years and years back. Jesus, she knew it had been rough between Daniel and Peggy, but she hadn't known how damn bad.

When she heard that Peggy had come back to the office, Quinn went to check on her because a man accuses another person of sleeping with his wife, he's bound to confront his wife about it, too. Peggy had a hard drink in hand and her eyes were red from tears when Quinn walked inside. After she locked the door behind her, Quinn walked over to take a seat next to Peggy on the couch that she kept in her office and wrapped a supportive arm around the brunette’s shoulders.

“Daniel wants a divorce.”

Quinn wasn't sure how much Peggy knew, so she played dumb and asked, “Why in the world would he do that?”

"Stupid doesn't suit you, Quinn. You know why,” Peggy breathed out and leaned further into Quinn’s embrace.

She wrapped both her arms around Peggy and held her close. “I'm sorry. This is my fault, isn't it?” She pressed her nose to the top of Peggy’s head and the corners of her eyes stung with tears. “I tried to tell him, I swear I did. I didn't mean to break you two up. God, what have I went ‘n done now? You two have your _kids_ —”

"It's my own bloody fault, you damned martyr.” Peggy snarled as she tore herself away from Quinn’s arms and stormed to her feet. “He's not _wrong_ , Quinn,” she admitted shakily. “It—he asked me—I couldn't even deny it. I think it's always been there, deep inside me, and I had no idea until someone finally confronted me about it.”

Quinn swallowed hard and her voice cracked when she asked, “Is it Howard?”

 _“_ Is it Howard? _Is it Howard_?” Peggy exploded. “Oh, bloody Nora, no it's not Howard. How haven't you realized it by now? It's you, Quinn. It's always been you. I love _you_ and I'm sure I've loved you since the war.” Peggy used a free hand to cover her mouth as her tears started up. Quinn desperately wanted to comfort her, but she couldn't move from where she was. She had been struck speechless and immovable by what Pegs had admitted.

Then, so, so quietly, Peggy whispered, “Why must you make everyone love you, Quinn?”

What else was Quinn supposed to do other than launch herself at Peggy? She knocked away the glass of scotch in Peggy’s hands away and put her hands on the other woman’s ass so she could bodily haul her up onto the desk. Then, for the first time in over two decades, Quinn kissed Margaret goddamn Carter like it was her whole reason for existing. She put her hand at the small of Peggy’s back and hauled her forward so every inch of them touched, but it wasn't enough. She needed more skin.

And also, for the first time in two decades, Quinn admitted both to herself and out loud that, “I love you.” The sound of Peggy’s clothes ripping apart under Quinn’s hands echoed in the room and Quinn swallowed Peggy’s gasp of surprise with her kisses. She leaned away to gasp out, “Oh God, Peggy, I love you so fucking much.” 

 

The two of them ended up at Quinn’s apartment and in her bed. They maybe put in two hours of actual sleep and when her alarm clock buzzed, she kissed Peggy’s graying temple and murmured, “Me ‘n Howard can handle it. Stay here and rest up. You’ve earned some goddamn vacation time.”

“I think I'll take you up on that offer,” Peggy murmured. “A hour two or more of rest and then I'll need to head back to the house. We have to talk to the children. We have to discuss—“

“Actually, y'know what? I maybe think that I'll head in a little later,” Quinn confessed because when Peggy, vulnerable, curled in on herself, Quinn couldn't possibly leave her there alone. “Fall, Pegs,” she ordered quietly and took Peggy back into her arms. “I'll be here to catch you.”

 

Later that day, when she had the time to, Quinn called Josie. For a minute, she had no actual idea why she even had called her. Thankfully, Josie had blurted, “I wanted to actually call you, but I wanted to wait until later when I knew you was home.”

“Oh. Is somethin’ the matter?”

"Uh...well, I…I was talkin’ to some people and I—I wanted to write a book. I want to show people how bad it can be—has been,” she explained. “But you…you're such a major part of the story that it seemed proper to ask you for permission.”

Quinn huffed. “You don't have to ask me. Your story is your story, Josie. If you want to write about it, then you do it.”

“Quinn, it was _our_ story, at one point. What I’m really sayin’ here is that I'd have to write about what we was to each other,” Josie elaborated. “Are you ready for the world to know ‘bout that part of you?”

“Aw hell, Josie, I couldn't care less ‘bout that. I ain't ashamed of what I am. I ain't ashamed of what I had with you. I reckon that maybe it's time to let the world know that.” There were plenty of movements that had started to pick up in the wake of what her and Josie had been a part of. It was smaller, but…it was of people who didn’t want to be ashamed anymore of who they loved, whether it was a man and a man or a woman and a woman. “I'm okay for it. I said I'd support you every step of the way and maybe they'll come after me rather than you. I was the one with Captain America, after all.”

“They’ll come after them, too. People…they’ll think about what you was to your boys, what they were to each other. They’ll try to say they wasn’t heroes.”

She snorted because, “They can try, but you leave that to me. I can deal with that.” Her eyes narrowed. “Write the damn book, Josephine, and quit lookin’ for excuses. You can’t back out now that you done said it.”

“Goddamn it, calm down, I’ll do it,” Josie breathed out. “Y’know…there was somethin’ else that I wanted to talk to you about. I…been scared. I don’t even know why. I—” she took another deep breath before she admitted, “I met someone—another lady, I mean. We been seein’ each other a while, and I…I think that…I—”

“You love her?” Quinn offered quietly. “You shouldn’t’ve ever been scared. That’s real damn amazin’, Josie. I…oh, God. Josie,” she started to quietly laugh herself. “I called you ‘cause I wanted to talk ‘bout the same goddamn thing. I…I’m in love with someone—with Peggy. I’ve told you ‘bout her.”

“ _Mon chère_ ,” she admonished. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Uh, yesterday?” Quinn scratched her forehead. “It’s…really complicated? It’d take a whole lotta time to explain and you didn’t even tell me ‘bout your lady, either.” Her expression softened. “Hey, tell me ‘bout her.”

“And you tell me ‘bout yours, too. I have time.”

\---

Howard Stark— _the_ Howard Stark, the man who couldn’t keep that dick of his out of a woman unless there was some kind of money on the table, announced that he was to be married to someone that Quinn had never met, a dime named Maria, apparently. Unless he wanted to pass a mission onto her, she tried to keep away from Howard as much as possible, so it made sense that Quinn had never met the woman before. It also made sense that Quinn hadn’t been invited to watch them tie the knot, but she hadn’t wanted to be at that circus anyhow. Who knew how many senators and other people Howard wanted to cozy up to that’d be there and how many of them would bother Quinn? Well, that’d been what Pegs said as to why she didn’t invite Quinn to be her plus one.

While that whole fiasco had went down, incidentally, Victor Gottschalk had cornered her in her office, taken her hands in his, and meekly asked, “Would you mind to…to have dinner with me?”

Quinn could be oblivious, sure, but she knew it could’ve happened—that he’d try to ask her on a date. She’d hoped that he’d keep their relationship as friends because that’s all she’d ever consider him as to her, but no. So, she’d forced a smile, and fumbled out, “Gee, Victor, it sure is swell that you’d—I’m honored, I am, but…I—I’m sorry. Jesus, I am, but I don’t think that’d be the best idea.”

Victor had blinked at her in shock. “But…” His mouth had closed, opened, and then he blurted, “I would treat you very nicely. I would love you with my very soul. I have protected your heart already—” he snapped his mouth shut and his brows furrowed. “Is this because of the mark? I would not be offended to see it—”

“No. Victor, that’s not it. I’m not…uh, interested in a relationship now.”

“Not even a date?” His lips pursed. “I have supported you. I have kept your interests _safe_ all these years. You should thank me. You don’t think you don’t owe me—”

Quinn knew that it came from hurt, but for him to think that he was _entitled_ to some kind of anything from her, well. “Victor, you’re a nice fella, but it’s be best that you shut the fuck up now. I don’t owe you a damn thing.” It seemed obvious that he wasn't about to leave, so she stormed past him and hoped he would finally get a clue and be gone when she came back.

“This is a mistake,” he snarled from behind her.

“Wouldn’t be the first one that I make, sweetheart, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. 

 

A week later, when Pegs made it back from out west where Howard had been married, Quinn had been curled up in bed, stark naked, hand over the dark, dark name on her side. She had waited, for Pegs to turn around and walk away, but the brunette had slid in behind her in the bed and wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist.

“I’m here, my love.”

Quinn took a deep, shuddering breath, and laced her fingers through Peggy’s.

 

 

**1969.**

Over supper, before she even took time to think of a better way to start the conversation, Quinn had blurted to her lover, “I think that you should look for an apartment of your own.” Thank the Lord that Pegs had the patience of a saint and merely raised an eyebrow at Quinn while she waited for some elaboration. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the best,” Quinn said as she winced. “Anyway, uh, there’s ‘bout to be some heat on me and I think that maybe it’d be best that we were separated so you’re not burned by it yourself.”

“Oh?” Peggy sat down her cup of tea and her lips pursed. “I’m not sure why I ask at this point because, no matter what, it’s bound to be a headache for me, but what exactly do you plan to do that is so terrible?”

Quinn reached down into her purse and took out the newspaper that flaunted headlines about the riots at the Stonewall Inn. “I…I think I need to come out.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not even sure that I’d even be accepted since, y’know, it’s not one or the other for me—since I like both ladies _and_ men. Still, I wanna try, because it’s…what’s right, isn’t it?”

“Then I should be here to support you,” Peggy immediately replied.

“No. No, they could—” Quinn shook her head. “They could take SHIELD away from you if you admitted to it. You’ve worked too hard to keep where you are and I’m not about to destroy that.” To try and ease up some of the tension, she waggled her brows at Peggy. “What? You worried that some other lady is ‘bout to sweep me off my feet?”

Pegs laughed and Quinn couldn’t help but lean across the table and kiss her.

\--- 

Thomas had screamed in Quinn’s ear over the phone about how he wanted to be the next person to step foot on the moon and she had smiled the whole time. 

 

 

**1970.**

Anthony Edward Stark had been born to Howard and Maria Stark in May.

It had taken Quinn for a loop and she wondered how the fuck Howard had even been able to keep up a relationship with Maria, let alone raise a _baby_. Politics aside, Quinn was happy for the couple—for Maria, anyway, who was always a sweetheart to Quinn whenever they met and definitely deserved better than a prick like Howard.

Obviously, since Pegs and Howard had always been closer than Quinn and Howard, Peggy had actually took a plane out to Malibu to visit the couple and their new baby boy, but Quinn decided to send a bouquet of flowers by way of one Mister Edwin Jarvis. She also made sure to write that the flowers were for Maria and Maria only.

\---

Quinn should’ve suspected that it’d happen sooner or later because happiness can never last when it comes to her.

Sprawled out in the bed, it had been ten minutes that Pegs had spent in the bathroom after their shower. Worriedly, she had peeked in and watched as Peggy brushed her hands over the silver in her hair, the lines in her face, and Quinn’s stomach had clenched anxiously.

“I’m fifty.”

Oh Christ. Oh, no, no, _no_.  “Yeah, and you’re as much a fox as ever,” she tried to tease and then went to slide in behind Pegs and brushed kisses over her shoulders. “Besides, I’m fifty- _one_ , so who’s the old lady here, huh?” Pegs closed her eyes and Quinn’s panic only worsened when tears started to trickle down Peggy’s cheeks. “No. Hey, what’s the matter? Don’t do that. Pegs—”

“I’ve been so happy with you these past two years, you must know that. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but Quinn,” she took Quinn’s hand and placed it beside her much more weathered one. “Physically, you’re the same as you were in the war. I’m only growing older and older. Will you really love me when I’m an old hag?”

“Of course I will,” Quinn snarled and put her hands on Peggy’s wet cheeks. “I’ll love you until the day they put me in the ground. I’ve told you that, ain’t I? So what if you look older than me? Why, you don’t think that there’re couples out there where one’s—”

“You mean it. You stupidly gold-hearted fool, you actually mean it.” Pegs only cried harder and Quinn had no idea what she could do, what she could possibly say to make it any better. “I wish we had done this sooner. I wish we hadn’t had our heads in our asses and that—if only our circumstances had been different. I only wanted more time with you.”

Quinn, desperate, shot back with, “We _do_ have time.”

“No, we don’t. I know I won’t ever forgive myself for this, but…I can’t have you come back to my bed after tonight, Quinn. I’d rather break your heart now and utterly hate myself for the rest of my life rather than slowly destroy you over time as you watch me wither and fade away.”

“Don’t _do_ this. I don’t _care_ about it. I swear to God, so long as you’re there with me, I don’t give one good goddamn about nothin’ else. Pegs,” she had choked out and sunk to her knees to shove her face into Peggy’s stomach. “I love you so fuckin' much. Please don’t leave me, too." 

 

As the sun peaked over the horizon and into the apartment, Quinn had whispered, “I’m itchin’ to run. I’m headed overseas.” She’d tried not to focus too much on the pattern because she had done the same when Josie ended it between them—had run to be a nurse in the war. “I love you,” she tried one last time.

Peggy had reached out and brushed away the tear that rolled down Quinn’s cheek. “Be well, my love.”

\---

There had been no real plan, only the itch to run away from America, so Quinn ended up in Africa—Nigeria, to be exact. She had landed there in the midst of a civil war between the Nigerian government and Biafra, who wanted to secede from Nigeria. It had been there that Quinn met some French doctors who tried to support the Biafrans, but the civilians and the doctors could be and had been attacked and murdered at any time by the other side of the war.

Basically, the doctors had been sick of politics, had wanted to help people and not have to worry about goddamn politics, and Quinn immediately liked the way they thought.

“Let me see what I can do,” Quinn had told them with a nod. “For now, let me help keep you safe.”

 

**1971.**

Quinn had to put herself back into Howard’s pocket for the help, but _Médecins Sans Frontières_ or _Doctors Without Borders_ had been founded. It was comprised of a bunch of people who believed that the needs of the people outweighed respect for national borders.

For some goddamned reason, they tried to say that Quinn was a founder, and no one would listen when she said she wasn’t. 

 

 

**1973.**

As the man started to come to in his hospital bed, from across the room, as she made a cup of water for him, Quinn drawled, “I can hear it, y’know.” When she turned back around, she prowled over toward him, and he tensed up, but she merely placed the cup on the bed tray in front of him and then took a seat in the chair pushed beside his bed. “I can hear it rattle around inside your chest.” Then, to be very clear, she added, “The death, I mean.”

“How extraordinary it must be to be able to hear that,” Zola breathed out and leaned back into his pillows. “You are one of my greatest creations, Doctor Hayden. It saddens me to see you waste your gift. Ah, but now is not the time. You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”

“I almost didn’t believe it when they told me you were dyin’. Pretty sure you’d live forever to _spite_ me,” she sneered. After a second, she schooled her expression into that of a smile and, sweetly, asked, “How much does it hurt, Zola? On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?”

“Were you never told to not play with your food?”

When Quinn stood up to take a seat on the edge of the bed, to anyone outside the room, when they looked past the windows, it would seem that Quinn was a concerned visitor. They’d never know how much Quinn absolutely loathed the man in the bed. “Gift, huh? What you put inside me is a _curse_ and you know it. I’ll live forever because of you. I have to watch every person I love slowly fade away ‘cause of you. I can never ever see my soulmates on the other side and it’s _all because of you_.”

“One man’s trash is another’s treasure, as they say.”

“Trust me when I say that I would love to wrap my hands around your neck and squeeze so hard that your beady little eyes pop out. But,” she paused to lean away and smile, “I won’t. Actually, Zola, you’ll have the best treatment by way of Stark. Why, at SHIELD, we’ll make sure these doctors do whatever they can to make sure you’re stuck here in the land of the living, suffering as long as possible.” Zola frowned and she smirked bitterly. “You took my death away from me, so it’s only fair I do the same to you—well, as long as I can.”

On her way out of the room, Zola started to chuckle, and before she slammed the door shut behind her, he had the audacity to say, “I’ll make sure to say hello to your Sergeant Barnes for you, Doctor Hayden. 

 

 

**1975.**

Quinn had come back to America to watch as Thomas walked across the stage and to present him with access to the money that everyone had saved up to pay for his school tuition. Tommy had lost his shit when everyone told him about it.

Later, as he had shown Quinn his acceptance letter into school, he had grinned so wide and teased her with, “Didn’t someone say I’d change my mind about bein’ a lawyer?”

“Hey, there was that time when you wanted to be an astronaut.”

Tommy shook his head and, softer, whispered, “I love you, Auntie Quinn.”

“I love you too, kiddo,” she answered fondly. “Now, you do us proud and if _anyone_ tries to mess around with yah, don’t you dare think twice ‘bout callin’ me. I’ll keep Liam and Sophia updated whenever I move between countries.”

“Auntie Quinn,” Thomas had sighed out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I say this completely outta love, but stop giving a fuck about everyone else and, for God’s sake, do somethin’ for yourself. 

 

Quinn still made sure to send postcards that had her current addresses.


	6. 1976-1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn's body is slowly betraying her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a lot shorter because this is a pretty uneventful decade, to be honest. Um, I'll try to get the next one posted as quick as possible! I love you all!

**1976.**

“I am so terribly sorry once more about the wait, Miss Hayden,” Edwin explained as he pulled out a chair in the lavish kitchen for her to take a seat. “I'll try once more at the office to see what the wait is. I'm afraid Mister Stark is—” 

“—either wrapped up in business or a pretty lady? Edwin, please, you don't have to stress yourself out over this. I know the man by now.” Edwin didn't seem too pleased by her answer and she snorted in amusement at his antics. The man could be too polite for his own good. How Howard could score such wonderful people in his life, she'd never know. “ _O_ kay, if it makes you feel better, you can make the call.” 

Edwin nodded. “Of course. Right away, Miss Hayden.” 

Howard had wanted to cash in a favor and send her on a mission—whether it was a SHIELD mission or a Stark one had yet to be determined—but when he asked her to come see him at his Malibu mansion, she shouldn't've worried about punctuality. Howard sure wanted to take his own sweet ass time. The fact that she had actually believed he would treat her with respect was dumb on her part. Honestly, she really shouldn't have expected more from him. 

Quinn clambered to her feet and cocked her head to the side to listen for Edwin’s movements or voice from wherever he was in the house so she could find him and explain that Howard’s time to cash in the favor had expired. Rather than hear Edwin, she heard a little hitch in breath and looked over at the entrance of the kitchen where a tiny head poked out to watch her.  

Oh. “Hey there,” she greeted with a smile. “You must be Tony, huh? Your Aunt Peggy's told me a whole bunch about you.” He continued to watch her with sharp eyes and she held out a hand to him. “I'm Quinn—” 

“Quinn Hayden,” he finished for her and padded into the room. He looked at her hand, blinked at it, then at her like she was dumb to even offer it. So, she dropped it. “Where's my dad?” 

“Honey, I wish I knew. Edwin’s up on the phone to see, but looks like he couldn't—” bastard or not, she couldn't bad mouth Howard in front of his own kid, so she shut up.  

Tony deflated in an instant. “Oh. I wanted to show him—never mind.” 

“Maybe you can show me? While we wait for your dad?” Quinn offered to the poor kid. “I mean, I heard that you built that circuit board and that engine and I'll tell you what, that sure was neat and the most amazin’ thing that I’d ever heard about. I’d love to see what other inventions you may be cookin’ up.” Tony had quickly latched onto the idea and a wide grin broke out on his face. Immediately after, she had to warn him, “But I'm not so smart when it comes to mechanics and whatnot, so you may have to explain some stuff to me.” 

“That's okay,” he chirped and darted forward to wrap his tiny hand around her own. “I can tell you about it _all_.” He started to pull her out of the kitchen with an impatient, “Come on. _Come on_ , Quinn,” and she laughed.  

 

In the middle of a lecture from Tony about the mechanics of that engine he the country had went nuts over and how he wanted to improve on it, Howard’s voice called out from the entrance to Tony’s room/workshop, “Tony, don't pester her over this stuff. Hayden, I'm ready to talk.” 

As Quinn watched Tony’s excitement diminish, heard his excited rants taper off into silence, she immediately bristled. “Howard, that can wait. Come in here and listen to these ideas your boy has,” she offered sweetly and tilted her head so that Tony wouldn't be able to see the murder plain as day in her expression. 

“He'll be fine,” Howard dismissed. “Come on to my office so we can talk.” 

“No.” Howard's eyes narrowed at her, but she turned around and faced a wide-eyed Tony. “I waited damn near two hours for you, I think you can stand to wait some yourself. Go ahead, Tony,” she smiled encouragingly and waved at the engine. “You finish up now.” 

 

About ten minutes later, surprise, surprise, Edwin came into the room. “Young Mister Stark,” he softly started and touched Tony’s shoulder. “Would you so terribly mind to let me take Miss Hayden’s place? You're more than welcome to talk to me about whatever new idea you have.” 

“I already told you about it,” Tony whispered and looked so dejected that it damn near broke her heart. “Can I stay with Quinn instead? I promise not to talk while dad does. That way, when they're finished, I can take her back.” 

“Tell you what,” Quinn spoke up on Edwin’s behalf because he looked as torn as Quinn did. Tony looked over at her and she reached out to snatch a piece of paper and wrote a name and number down. “This here is my brother,” she explained and held out the paper so Tony could take it. “He’s always first to know where I am overseas. So, if you decide you want to talk to teach someone a lesson or two, call him to reach out to me and I'll be more ‘n happy to listen. Sound okay?” 

Quinn watched him clutch the paper to his chest as Edwin reached down to pick him up and put him on his hip. “It was so nice to meet yah, Tony,” she whispered and, maybe it wasn't her place, but she leaned forward anyway to kiss him on the forehead. “And I know we only met a little bit ago, but I sure am proud of you.” 

 

“Goddamn it, Howard, haven't you fucking learned to care about someone other than yourself?” Quinn snarled as she stormed into the office. Howard didn't even have the decency to face her and instead continued to stare out his window and sip at whatever stiff drink he had today. “Jesus Christ, your son is down there, and he's such a smart, brilliant kid and you won't even let him have the time of day." 

“You came here to talk to me—” 

“Oh, _please_. Don't act like you're in the right here, please don't. You could've taken some time to listen to what he had to say. Do you even realize how you're doin’ your son wrong? He wants to do you proud. How could you treat him like that? Like he's not important?” 

“What we have to discuss is more important.” 

“If it was so goddamned important then why'd you make me wait, huh?” 

Howard hated it when someone called him out on his bullshit, so he warned her to, "Stay away from my son, Hayden. Just because your soulmates died before they could put a baby in you doesn't mean you can come after mine." 

" _What_ did you say to me?" Quinn whispered, tone deadly, as she flushed in chagrin. Then, she shouted at him, "Who _the fuck do you think you are_?" Fuck the trouble she'd be in. She stormed forward and slammed her clenched fist right into his goddamn jaw. "Fuck your favors, fuck your missions, and fuck you, you pretentious piece of shit! Go find someone else to do your dirty work." 

 

 

 **1977**.

Okay, Quinn had to admit that she really fucking loved _Star Wars_. She had actually went three times to see it—the first on her own, the second with Thomas because he'd never truly gotten out of his astronaut phase and loved space, and the third had actually been with one little Tony Stark. 

Quinn and Howard hadn't spoke in nearly a year after she'd broken his nose—"And you dislocated his jaw, Quinn," Peggy had reprimanded, but it hadn't been too bad because she probably thought Howard deserved it, too—but that didn't mean her and Tony hadn't, either. The kid would sneak behind his old man's back and connect with her via Liam. 

Anyway, he had mentioned that he'd wanted to see it, but Howard wanted Tony to focus on his work at home, so he didn't have time to see the movie. Quinn's eyes had almost went out of her head with how hard she rolled them because, what the fuck, Howard? Who makes a kid do that? 

Edwin had merely smiled softly when Quinn showed up at the Stark mansion and pretty much kidnapped Tony for the day since both his parents were out and about somewhere. "Cover for us, Edwin!" she shouted over her shoulder at him and Tony. 

"Thank you, Miss Hayden," Tony whispered shyly when she dropped him back off at the mansion after they'd seen the movie and went out for some ice cream after. Thankfully, his parents hadn't come home yet. 

Quinn had ruffled his hair and laughed. "Quinn, Tony, you can call me Quinn." 

 

 

 **1979.**  

It had taken ten years for it to happen, but _From Defective to Human_ had finally been published by Josephine DuPont. Quinn decided it was time to head back to the states, at least until the heat died down. 

Around the time that the cries of the nation for an explanation from Quinn Hayden started, there was a parade scheduled to honor what happened at Stonewall Inn and to celebrate those in the gay and lesbian community. Rather than say it with words, Quinn went to the leaders of the parade and asked to be there with them. 

After the parade and the constant flash of cameras, Quinn called Peggy, nearly in tears. "Bisexual," she breathed out. "That's what I am. They have a word for it—us. We're bisexual. There are plenty ah people who're same as us." She wiped at her eyes and croaked out, "Maybe I'm not as defective as I thought." 

"Quinn, you were never defective to begin with." 

Hesitantly, Quinn actually starts to believe that. 

 

 

 **198** **2** **.**

Thomas had pushed on and on and was finally done with law school and Quinn had never been prouder. Hell, the whole family was proud as hell of him. 

When she went to Louisville for the graduation ceremony, for the very first time, Quinn met Josie's partner of many, many years, Florence. She was sure that both Josie and Florence were nervous about it—maybe she could admit it'd be a little awkward to meet your partner's mismatched soulmate—but Quinn had tried to ease the tension some and asked, "Hey, can I call you Flo?" 

Halfway into the ceremony, when Flo and Quinn couldn't shut up for more than a minute, Josie had moaned in exasperation and mumbled, "Of course you two would hit it off. _Of course_. I have two assholes in my life now." 

Once the ceremony was over, everyone waited for Thomas to come meet them and both Liam and Sophia were emotional messes, had been since the name Thomas Hayden had been announced, and Quinn, Florence, and Josie teased them mercilessly. 

In the distance, Quinn could see Thomas walk toward them, but he also had someone with him. " _Hey_." When she looked back around at everyone, she pouted. "How come no one told me Tommy has a lady-friend?" 

"He has a _what_!" Sophia shouted which meant that apparently no one had known about it. That made Quinn feel a bit better. 

When Thomas announced to the whole family, "Y'all, this is Jackie, my wife," Sophia had actually fainted. 

 

 

 **1984.**  

Quinn was older than Liam by nine years, but she looked the same age as his goddamn son. If someone didn't know who she was, they'd probably think that Liam was her fucking father.  

Around March, Liam had called to scream into Quinn's ear for about an hour that he would be a grandpa soon. Quinn had tried to be  happy for the couple, but all she could think about was the fact that she would have to watch her brother die, watch her nephew die, watch Tommy's kid—or kids—die, and probably watch the whole Hayden line die off, one by fucking one, for hundreds of goddamn years. 

Quinn had holed up in her apartment for a whole week and tried not to look in the mirror or even look at her dirty traitor of a body. 

 

\--- 

 

Theodora Quinn Hayden had come into the world on November 21—same day as her dear old aunt—and Quinn had blushed and stammered the whole time after Thomas told her that they'd named the baby after her. 

"Weirdest damn name for a baby, I'll tell you what," Quinn had whispered to Thomas and Jackie in the hospital room while she held the newborn. "You didn't have to do that," she added and smiled when little baby Theodora peeked her eyes open. "There're better people who you could've named her after." 

Jackie had laughed. "Miss Quinn, you helped put Thomas in school, you've helped us stay on our feet while Tom tried to find a place to work, and you're also a hero to the whole country. Trust me when I say that you're worth having a baby named after you." 

Quinn's face had went hotter and she grumbled, "You better name the next one after someone in your family, you hear?"


	7. 1986-1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifty years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of Tony/Quinn interaction in this one. So, you have to suffer for two more chapters and then we get Steve out of the ice and move into the events of The Avengers. As always, I love you all!

**1986.**

"Okay, I can't wrap my head around it. He _shrinks_?" 

Quinn had known the woman on the other end of the phone over four decades, so she didn't need to see to know that she had rolled her eyes at Quinn. "Honestly, Quinn, how is this so hard to comprehend? Need I remind you of Johann Schmidt?" 

"Touché." 

 

 **1987.**  

At a mere seventeen-years-old, Tony Stark had made his way down the aisle at MIT and he had been at the very top of his class to boot. Tony, probably smarter than his father now, had invited dear Aunt Peggy, of course, and since Howard couldn’t stop Pegs even if he wanted to, Quinn was there as a plus one. They, at least, sat far away from Howard, but Quinn was pretty sure she had felt his eyes bore holes into the back of her head the whole time. It made her smug as shit. 

Howard, of course, whisked Tony away once the ceremony had been over, but Tony did come to see them at their hotel room and he had a kid with him, too—well, to Quinn they were both kids, but he was about the age that any normal college student would be. "Aunts, meet Rhodey and Rhodey, meet the Aunts. Rhodey's been my roommate since I started school. He's okay." 

Rhodey nervously chuckled. "Tony Stark seal of approval." Quickly, he looked back and forth between the two women, cleared his throat, and told them, "It's an honor to meet you Missus Carter and Miss Hayden." 

Pegs feigned surprise. "Oh my word—you're _polite_? I didn't think Anthony had any polite friends." 

"Relax, kiddo," Quinn drawled and reached out to clap Rhodey on the shoulder. " _I_ don't bite," she innocently added while she looked over her shoulder at Pegs who, in turn, smiled at him much like a predator. Quinn was sure she heard Rhodey gulp. "C'mon, we'll take you two out to lunch to celebrate." 

 

 **1991.**  

"He _what_?" Quinn screeched. "That bastard, that son of a bitch, that _motherfucker_ —I _knew_ he would do this! I knew it! I told you, didn't I? I _told you_ he would do it! Where is he, huh? Where the fuck _is he_?" 

As Quinn tried to storm out of the office, Dum-Dum practically threw himself in front of the door so her temper could settle down before she tried to do something rash. Honestly, when did Dum-Dum become the sane one? "They're rumors, Quinn. Didn't you listen to a word Union Jack said?" 

"Give me a break, Dum-Dum. You both know him better than me, so you tell me, without a doubt, that you know they're _rumors_ and that he'd never do it." She stared at him, waited for his answer, but his eyes dropped, and when she looked over her shoulder, Pegs wouldn't meet her eyes, either. "Yeah, that's what I thought." 

"Still doesn't mean you need to stoop to his level," Dum-Dum muttered. 

"It ain't that—it ain't," she swore but that didn't stop how she shook with fury and how, down by her sides, her fists clenched. Goddamn, she needed to punch someone and that someone went by the name of Howard Stark. "I have to _save_ people from him. I can't let anyone else have this—be _cursed_ like I am. No one should let people have my blood. Do you know what that would be like for 'em? It'd be hell." 

From the other side of the room, behind her desk, Peggy took a deep breath, released it, and then rose to her feet. "I've called Anthony. Howard and Maria are headed to the Pentagon. If we're lucky, we can beat him there. If we're luckier, if he _does_ indeed have it, then we'll make it before he hands it over to the government." 

 

Howard never made it out of New York—him or Maria. The car had crashed and the two of them had been killed instantly on impact, apparently. Quinn had immediately wondered if there'd been some foul play because if they knew about the blood, who else could've? But Victor himself had examined the bodies and people had scoured the scene and the area around it for days, to search for the serum he'd supposedly created, but by the end of it all, there'd been squat. All it'd been was a bad stroke of luck.  

So, the nation and those closest to Howard and Maria mourned their losses. Quinn and Howard had bad blood between them, sure, but she was sad about Maria and sadder for poor Tony. It may’ve been even worse between Tony and his old man, but he had been a momma’s boy, without a doubt.  

The whole week since the accident and Quinn had run around non-stop, so after the funeral, she had crawled into her bed and hoped to keep there for a day and do no more than sleep. Unfortunately, around three in the morning, there had been a knock on her door, and Tony would've dropped flat on his face if she hadn't been there to catch him after she opened it. Even if she couldn't smell the booze on his breath, she would've immediately been able to tell that he was hammered what with how he started to snicker in her arms.  

“Whoa, okay, hey there, kiddo.” She maneuvered him around so she could throw his arm over her shoulder and start to carry him into the apartment. “Uh, you know what time it is?” 

“Quinn,” he slurred happily and stopped her movement so he could wrap his arms around her. “Aunt Quinn,” he mumbled into her neck and she was sure he was about to be serious but then he snorted and helpfully explained that, “Oh fuck. I am _so_ wasted.” 

Well, there went sleep in a nice comfortable bed. "Kiddo, I'll warn yah now, you throw up in my bed, I swear to God that I'll have your hide." Then, she started to corral him back toward her bedroom.  

"Aw, you wouldn't kill me on the day that I had to put my parents in the dirt, would you?" 

Quinn grimaced. "Please don't be one of them sad drunks. I can't deal with that. I don't _wanna_ deal with that—really, really don't." It was hard to make him head to bed because he wanted to stumble around elsewhere, but they did finally make it back to her bedroom. "Tony, you shit, you'll definitely feel this in the mornin'," she said as she practically threw him on the mattress. 

"I had a question," he mumbled as she tried to pull off his shoes because, no, not in her bed. "I can't remember what I wanted to ask you. What'd I wanna ask you, Quinn?" Tony threw an arm over his eyes and moaned. “Damn it. It was really important…I think.” 

“I have no idea, honey.” She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. “I'll lay you out some water and aspirin. You'll need it.” He blinked at her slowly, but he seemed settled down, so she smiled softly and whispered, "Go to sleep and we can talk about it when yah wake up, okay?" 

“’kay, Aunt Quinn,” he whispered and clutched the sheets hard when she pulled them over him.  

 

As expected, Quinn had been on the money about how Tony would definitely feel that booze when he woke up because she woke up to the pleasant noise of him becoming best buddies with her toilet. She wanted to yell at him to shut the door, but it wouldn't much matter with her super ears, so she rolled off the couch, went to the kitchen, and started up some breakfast for the two of them. 

"Grease, thank God, you're an angel," Tony moaned like some zombie and looked about as nice as one too when he stumbled into the kitchen ten minutes later. "As thankful as I am for breakfast, how'd I end up here? And did I try to kiss you or make out with you or come onto you at all?" 

"Drunk or not, Tony, I'd punch you in the face if you'd tried." She peered over her shoulder, face scrunched up in distaste. "Have you actually thought about it? That's really awkward, y'know. I'm your—" 

"—aunt, yeah, I know," he interrupted. "But since I can't remember how I ended up here, I'm not sure if I even knew exactly who you were and since you're doing good for someone in her seventies, there's this," he waved around himself, "danger zone around me. If you're in it then watch out." 

Fair enough, she supposed. "I'm not sure if you knew what place you ended up at, but you were happy to see me and knew me fine, so no awkward sexual harassment there.” As she pushed some bacon from the pan into the plate she set out for him, she told him, “But you did say you had a question. Any idea what was in that drunk mind of yours?”  

There had been no immediate answer from him, but with the way his brows knitted, she assumed that he tried to remember. So, she let him work on it while she finished up breakfast. 

It was when she was seated at the table and munched on some bacon that he finally blurred, “They died with each other. That's okay, isn't it? I don't even know if Howard loved anyone but himself, but Mom loved him. They didn't have any marks between them, but she was sure they were soulmates and—” he stopped and then asked her, “Rogers and Barnes, if you knew what your future would be but couldn't save them, would you choose to die with them?” 

“Don't ask questions you don't wanna know the answer to, Tony,” she replied after a moment of quiet. His mouth opened to protest and she shook her head, cut him off with, “I can see it on your face. You know the answer, but you don't wanna hear me say it.” 

"So you would then? You'd leave this nice life you've made for yourself behind over two men you barely knew? You would leave me—” 

"I pray to God you won't ever have to understand what it feels like to have your body slowly betray you the way mine is,” she explained softly. “I will have to watch as every person I've ever loved dies and rots away while I stay in this perfect body of mine for hundreds and hundreds of years. Would I be happy to have them with me when I die? Absolutely. But don't you think they're the only reason I'd choose that road.” 

 

 **1992.**  

"I think it's time that I retire," Peggy announced over lunch in her office one day near the start of the year. "Alexander Pierce had recommended someone by the name Nicholas Fury. I'll let you read over his files, but I think he's a very fine successor." 

Quinn gave a one-shouldered shrug. "You don't need my approval. Do what you think is best, Pegs." 

"For heaven's sake, I don't know why you think you're not a founder of SHIELD. The whole bloody organization was your idea." Quinn flushed and Pegs, while she continued to shake her head in disapproval, dropped a thick file onto the table. "Look this over and tell me your opinion of him."  

 

Nicholas Fury had bent and broken rules to keep people safe and Quinn backed up the decision to have him a hundred percent. 

When Quinn went to meet him in his office, he'd held out a hand to her and greeted her with a stern, "Doctor Hayden." Then, he waved toward one of the seats in front of his desk. "Have a seat, please. I actually wanted to talk to you." 

Quinn raised a brow at him. "Pegs told you about me, didn't she?" 

"Yes, she did," he answered with a nod and pulled out a very, _very_ thick folder. "I believe we should lay down the groundwork because, unlike former Director Carter, I won't deal with your bullshit." She huffed in offense, but he _did_ have a point. "You are a founder of SHIELD, though, so I highly respect your opinion, but I also need to know if you're in. Over the decades, you've been in and out and I don't want that." 

"In for me is a real long time," she pointed out. 

"Then you're more than welcome to leave when the next director takes over." 

Quinn had a hell of a lot of respect for the kid, but, "I think I'm out then. I'm not the best to keepin' in one place. If you need someone to do some heavy liftin', though, I'll be happy to help you out." 

"Of course," he answered with a nod. "Like I said before, I respect your opinion, so expect a call from me now and then." 

"Got it." Quinn smiled then. "It was nice to meet you, Nick. Good luck." 

 

\--- 

 

At the party to celebrate Tony, who had finally stepped up to the plate and took the mantle of CEO of Stark Industries, Quinn walked up to Obadiah Stane, partner of Howard and who had handled the company in the year since Howard passed, and held out a hand to him to shake. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist and turned to face the cameras that flashed around them. 

"Miss Hayden," he greeted and waved at the cameras. "How are you?" 

Quinn moved away from the arm that was a bit too close to her ass and turned to face him with her backs to the cameras. "I care about Tony a lot," she started and shot him a sweet smile. "You're the same as Howard was, a snake, and if you hurt him in any way at all, I will do every painful thing I can think of to you and then cut off your head and watch you twitch. Are we clear?" 

Obadiah, same as her, plastered on a smile. "Completely, Miss Hayden. It was nice to talk to you, too." 

 

Later in the party, Quinn met the woman who had been tasked with the unfortunate position of secretary to Tony, one Miss Virginia Potts. "Please call me Pepper," she corrected and her cheeks had started to turn red. "It's such an honor, Doctor Hayden. You've been—" 

"A role model, yeah, a lot of ladies tell me that." Pepper ducked her head and Quinn patted her on the shoulder. "If you decide to stick around with Tony then I should let you know that I'll be around a lot and, honey, let me tell you that I'll show you how little a role model I actually am." 

Pepper's tension eased up a little and she laughed. "Thank you? I think?" 

"Let me buy you a drink," Quinn offered. "I can tell you a little bit about what you've gotten yourself into." 

 

 **1994.**  

Andrea Frances Hayden was born to Thomas and Jackie on October 7. Thea had hopped around the hospital in excitement the whole time and both Quinn and Josie laughed at her the whole time. 

"I think I broke the Hayden line," Quinn explained when it was her turn to hold the new baby. Tommy made a noise from where he was seated next to Jackie on the bed and Quinn went on to elaborate. "Before me, all there's been in the Hayden family is boys. I think I broke it. Seems like all we have now is little ladies," she cooed the last part down at the newborn. 

Jackie snorted. "Girl or boy, everyone in both mine and Tommy's families will spoil them rotten." 

"Guilty," Quinn admitted without an ounce of shame. 

 

 **1995.**  

Quinn had a love-hate relationship with the ocean. It had been where she lost one of her soulmates, but it was so damn beautiful to look at. At least Steve had a nice burial plot. As she watched the sun slowly set over the horizon, she breathed out, "Fifty years." Then, she moved her beer bottle up to her lips, but she didn't take a drink. "Jesus, when they put it like that…" 

Tony stretched out on the beach towel, but shoved his feet into the sand. "I'm sure I've said this already, but it was only two years." 

"Yeah, but—" she smiled bitterly and put her beer bottle down into the sand beside them so she could hug her legs to her chest. Around Tony, she felt that she could be vulnerable, even a little bit. "You don't understand. Two years was more than enough time with them. I know that Howard talked about Captain America, but…it was probably never about Steve and Bucky." She huffed. "God, you would've loved Buck." 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

"Bucky loved science. He spent as much time as he could in the SSR labs and he'd read those little sci-fi novels that we had back in the day. And Steve, I think you two would do fine with each other, too. Both of you are little shits. Me 'n Bucky had to keep Steve in line to make sure he didn't kill himself in some stupid stunt—not that it mattered, in the end. They both died on me." 

Tony leaned up on an elbow. "You know how they talk about the five stages of grief?" She nodded. "You ever been through all five of them? Y'know, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance." 

"Maybe not in that order." Her lips pursed. "And maybe not that last one." She scrubbed a hand over her face. "I don't know 'cause I'm not sure what acceptance is exactly in this case. I mean, I know they're dead, I've accepted they won't ever come back, but…I miss them. They were my world, y'know?" 

"Not really," he told her truthfully and she smiled a little. "Aren't you mad at them? That whole _they took the best years of my life_ deal?" 

Quinn rubbed the back of her neck. "A few times, yeah, I have. I don't think I was ever mad at them, not really. I was mad at myself 'cause I fell in love with them in the middle of a war. I should've known they were doomed from the start."  

"Wow. Who knew you could be a poet?" 

She smiled a little wider. "First job I ever had, when I was fresh out of school, was at the paper." 

"No shit?" 

"No shit." Quinn turned her head to the side to look down at him. When he sensed her eyes on him, he peeked an eye open. "I don't think it ever won't hurt, honestly, but it's not so fresh and, now, I can think back on my time with them and feel more love than pain. I've always been lucky, too, to have people like you to help me with it." She poked him in the stomach but he batted her hand away. 

"God, I need more booze for this conversation," Tony moaned out and reached over in the cooler for another beer.


	8. 1996-2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why didn't she realize sooner that she had a type?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we get into the events of Iron Man 1 and 2, Thor, and also there's a surprise appearance from the Winter Soldier! But we start to see some familiar faces in this chapter. Have fun, kiddos! Remember that I love you!

**2000.**  

Aside from the borderline creepy obsession he had with her soulmate, Phil Coulson was a real nice man that treated her with respect and had once admitted that he admired both her and Pegs—and there weren't too many men who would admit to that so that instantly made her a little sweet on him. Anyway, he had become her…liaison with SHIELD, in a way. Nick was a real busy man, so when he couldn't reach out to Quinn directly, Phil was sent in his stead.  

So, when Phil knocked on her door, she assumed he had been there for some SHIELD-related business which, when he sat her down, it kind of was, but it hadn't been sanctioned by Nick or anyone else. Obviously, Quinn had been on board the second he said he would be outside the rules and didn't even need to hear about the mission, but she listened all the same and it turned out to be recruitment.  

The potential recruit in question was someone that worked with a team of criminals who moved across the country as a circus—well, he used to work with them. He had apparently been the one to alert the police about his team’s next hit and sent the lot of them to prison. She read up on the man's backstory—had a nice home life with his parents until he and his brother were orphaned and it went downhill from there. He also apparently had a wicked talent for a bow and arrow. 

Still, she had to wonder why Phil had come to her instead of Nick. “Other than the fact that you can bend the rules unlike Director Fury?” He had a point there. Phil went on to explain, “I trust your judgment more than my own. You've seen the best and worst in people, I think, so you would know better if we should let him have a second chance. Also, Director Fury is more likely to listen to you if we decide to recruit him since you are a founder of SHIELD.” 

 

And that was how Quinn met Clint Barton. 

Barton sat in front of them both, in handcuffs, and sported a whole bunch of bruises and cuts. It made sense that he'd have his ass beat since, stupidly, he had been locked up in the same place as his former team. 

Once Phil was done with the SHIELD spiel, he asked, "So, Mister Barton, do you want a second chance?" 

"'Course I do," Barton replied. 

Quinn heard his tone and spoke up, "But…?" 

"But," Barton sighed and shrugged, "I don't deserve it. There are more people in here who've done more time and deserve the chance you want me to have." 

Quinn stood up and Phil followed her lead and the only hint of confusion on him had been in his eyes. "Guess you'll have to earn your second chance, won't you?" Then, she tossed some paperwork onto the table, SHIELD's symbol stamped on the front. "And you'll earn it, Barton, at SHIELD." 

 

**2001.**  

When the towers went down in New York, Quinn immediately went to help with the cleanup. People thanked her profusely because she could move huge pieces of rubble without the help of a crane, could do work for hours and hours without a break, and could provide medical services on the spot. Quinn merely told them that they didn't need to thank her, that it was her duty to help. 

 

**2004.**  

When Quinn popped by to see Tony, the second he saw her, he blurted, "I slept with Rhodey." 

"Uh," Quinn smartly started, blinked, and then passed him the cup of coffee he probably desperately needed, "Nice to see you too?" She opened the door to the old muscle car he had in the middle of his lab for some reason and slid in. When he moved in next to her, she sipped at her own drink and asked, "Was that supposed to shock me?" 

"It _doesn't_?" 

"Not really," she answered with a shrug. What she didn't know was, "Do you love him?" 

"Oh fuck, _no_. I mean…yes? I—I don't _know_ ," he moaned miserably and sunk down in the seat, hands on his face. Why did it seem like the older he was, the more like a kid he acted? "He's one of the few people who actually like me for me, so I obviously care about the guy a lot, but—" he gave one hysterical laugh. "I don't think I'd even know if I was in love." 

"Don't make fun, okay?" she warned immediately. "But love is…it sneaks up on you—it did with me, anyway. You never really realize you do until there's some kind of cataclysm that makes you open your eyes and see how lost you'd be without them." It'd been like that with all the people she'd loved over her many years. "Maybe you love him, maybe you don't, and maybe you don't even know—that's okay. Are you best buddies still?" 

"I think so. Neither of us have really talked about it." Poor Tony, he looked so vulnerable and lost that she couldn't help but wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him close. "I _do_ care about him, I do. I wouldn't want to lose him. But…you know me. Do I look like the type to settle down?" 

Quinn hummed. "You don't have to settle down. I'm sure it wouldn't be much different than it is now." She kissed the top of his head, smiled fondly. "You're not sure and that's okay. I think this is the one time I'd tell you to back down from this battle until you're absolutely sure of what you want." Then, because Tony can't be too emotional without breaking out in hives, she adds, "And if he hurts you in any kinda way, you'll be my alibi when I bury his body out in the desert somewhere." 

"No one would believe that you'd murdered a man anyway. It's the face." 

"It's the face," Quinn agreed. 

 

**2005.**  

No one would stop to think it, what with the constant sarcasm and hard exterior, but Clint was a sweet, sweet man who had become an avid believer in second chances, and she could admit that she had a soft spot for him. So, when he called and explained that he needed some backup in Russia, she went without more than, "Where are you?" 

Quinn had expected some havoc, sure, because troubled followed that kid around like nothing else, but what she hadn’t expected when she walked into the decided safe house was a redhead with Clint’s head cradled in her lap who pointed a pistol at Quinn’s head. Quinn couldn't keep her eyes off the woman too much, but with how bloody her hands were and Clint's matted hair, she assumed Clint was in a bad way. 

“Goddamn it, Clint, what’d you do now?” Quinn breathed out and held her hands up, slow, to show that she wasn’t armed—well, that she wasn’t about to reach for her own weapons. “I ain’t sure how much he told you before he conked out, but I’m Quinn Hayden. I’m a doctor.” The redhead, with sharp, hard eyes, didn’t waver. “Password is Barney.” Still, no movement, and Quinn’s eyes moved down and over Clint. “Sweetheart, I don’t want to hurt you, especially since Clint apparently thinks you’re worth a save, but I can and will if you don’t let me check him over.” The two women stared at one another, match for match. “Put it down,” she warned one last time. 

 

Once Clint woke up, with a pained moan, he blinked and looked between both Quinn and the little lady that had yet to even speak a word and hadn't even put her weapon down. She'd merely moved it out of the way so Quinn could examine and work on Clint's wounds. "Oh, you two met," he croaked out. "Quinn, meet Natalia," he introduced as he tried to move, but Quinn pushed him back down. "Natalia, this is Quinn Hayden, your ticket into both America and SHIELD." 

“Oh, am I?” Quinn drawled sarcastically. “How come I should do that, huh?” 

“You’re Quinn Esther Hayden, aren’t you?” Natalia questioned and Quinn had taken it as a question, but then the redhead added, “You’ve been alive almost ninety years. What better do you have to do?” 

It was then that Quinn realized she had a type—sarcastic little shits. 

 

After a very bloody escape from Russia—the KGB hadn't want to let Natalia leave alive without a fight—Quinn was there to support Clint when he produced Natalia to Phil, and then Nick, and recommended that she be taken into SHIELD's custody.


	9. 2006-2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It used to be that the craziest thing that Quinn had ever seen was a man with a red face. It turns out that she was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I didn't mean to make this chapter so long, but it...just...sort of happened? I also didn't plan to get Quinn so involved in the MCU...okay, no, I lied, I totally did mean for it to turn out that way. The next chapter is the one you've been waiting for! And it's also the start of the Avengers!  
> I love all of you so much!

**2006.**

Quinn may've not been an official member of SHIELD anymore—she was more of a consultant, Coulson sometimes put it as—but she sure had started to spend more time at headquarters than she ever had since Pegs had still been the director, but, hey, what could she say? Both Natalia and Clint were fun to be around.

One day, over lunch with said dynamic duo, Natalia announced, "From now on, I want to be Natasha." Both Quinn and Clint raised a brow at her and she went on to elaborate that, "I can never forget what they've made me do, what they've taken from me since I was a child, but this is a…small step to reclaim some of myself."

Quinn smirked. "And it's a big ol' _fuck you_ to the Red Room, yeah?"

"Absolutely," Natasha answered with her own smirk and Clint cracked up.

 

\---

 

Later in the year, James "Jim" Morita passed away from the world and Quinn looked around at what little remained of the Commandos—Gabe, Dum-Dum, Pegs—with their silver hair and weathered faces and cried harder.

It was only a matter of time. 

 

**2007.**

Honest, it didn't come as that much a surprise to Quinn that she ended up in bed with both Clint and Natasha. Most people at SHIELD—like any workplace—threw around rumors that she was some kind of mentor to the two of them, that they were her favorites, but that wasn't how it had been at all…except maybe that part about how they were her favorites. They had become her friends and then, over time, there had been some kind of…charge between them. Quinn hadn't even bothered to push them back when, oh so slow—true to their codenames—Clint had started to peck away at her defenses and Natasha had started to crawl under her skin. 

In bed, the two of them scratched itches that she hadn't even realized she had anymore—like when Nat pressed her down into the mattress and made her whine and plead for it and when both she and Nat then took Clint apart, piece by piece. To have someone take control from her while, at the same time, she controlled someone else…yeah, it was nice. They helped take care of those deep, dark desires—as cheesy as that was.

Dawn hadn’t even broken over the horizon when Quinn crawled out of the bed and started to slip back into her clothes. Neither Natasha nor Clint would care if she booked it before they were awake. But as she tried to put her shirt back on, a hand reached out to brush over the names that ran down both her sides. Rather than talk in the room and wake up Clint, Quinn escorted Natasha out to the couch, and let the redhead press her down into it and climb into her lap.

Natasha couldn’t keep her hands away from the marks. “They told us that mark is a mark,” she whispered, “unless you pour love into it and love, we were told, is for children.”

“Great advice,” Quinn mumbled with a quiet huff and leaned up to brush her mouth over Natasha’s. “I wish someone had told me that sooner. It would’ve saved me a whole mess ah trouble all these years. 

"Why would you let them hold so much power over you?"

"I don't." Then, she amended that with, "Not anymore, I don't. I used to. But…it wasn't even the marks themselves that had the power. I've learned that marks are more of a…well, a suggestion, I suppose. Just because their names were on me didn't mean I had to love them. I fell in love with them like any other person would. I loved them and I lost them and I mourned them—sometimes still do. I miss the hell outta those two."

Natasha took Quinn's hand and moved it down over her hip where _Clinton Francis Barton_ was scrawled. “I can’t love him,” she admitted in the dim light of dawn. “I’ll never be able to do that. I'm not capable of love. It was yet another thing they burned out of me. He deserves so much more than that—better than me." It was the most vulnerable Quinn had ever seen Natasha be around another person.

Still, Quinn had to point out that, “There’s more than one love, more than romantic love.” Natasha didn’t look all that convinced and Quinn couldn’t help but smile sadly. “It’s true. I've learned that, too, in my many, many years. A soulmate isn’t romance. It’s…when souls meet and decide _that's what's perfect for me, that's mine_ and if romance isn't what's perfect for you, I'm sure Clint can understand that. If he don't then he's not worth the time of day."

"He saved me. I owe him."

"You saved yourself. Clint only helped you find a safe place to do it. Nat," she reached out to cup the other woman's cheeks and forced her to look at Quinn, "You don't owe anyone a goddamn thing. 

Natasha slowly let out a breath before she leaned down and pressed her lips to the side of Quinn's neck. "Thank you." Then, she slowly crawled out of Quinn's lip and sunk down to her knees between Quinn's legs. "By the way, we're not finished with you yet."

“Oh boy." 

 

**2009.**

"We have reason to believe that an attack will be made on Arshad Namdar. He's an Iranian nuclear scientist. We want to escort him out of the country. We'd like to have you with Agent Romanoff on this, if you have the time," Nick explained from behind his desk. 

Quinn's lips pursed. "There a reason you need me on this? I think Nat can handle it on her own."

"To be blunt with you, people still don't trust Romanoff— _or_ Barton, for that matter. It takes time, in cases like these, but I need the process to be faster. She's proven herself to be a very valuable asset to SHIELD, yet no one seems to believe me about that. So, if someone they trust is the one to write the report then I think people would finally be convinced."

The on-and-off physical relationship with them aside, both Natasha and Clint had proven themselves to be trustworthy time and time over, if the way they talked about missions was much to go by. It pissed her off, that people only focused on their pasts, didn't even take a second to think that they'd proven themselves just by stepping away from where they came from. It also made her mad as hell that no one would even believe Nick who was the _director of SHIELD_ , for God's sake. 

"Well, you know me, I'm always lookin' to prove people wrong."

 

At almost ninety-years-old, Quinn should've learned to never think about how easy a mission was because that would be the exact moment that shit hit the fan which is exactly what happened on her mission with Nat. 

Both women had decided it would be best to have Quinn in the backseat with Mister Namdar because if anyone was to take a hit, Quinn would deal with it best and would be least likely to die. It turned out to be the best decision because there was a sudden loud boom and Quinn pushed Arshad's head down because she was sure it was an explosion, but then the car started to skid this way and that. Quinn then realized that their tire had been blown out and they were too close to the edge of a cliff for comfort.

"Nat!" Quinn shouted as yet another tire was blown out and they were headed over the edge—fuck, shit, whoever it was wanted to run them off the fucking road. 

Nat whipped her head around to look over her shoulder and yell, "I can handle myself! Get him out of here!" Then, she abandoned the wheel of the car and threw herself into the passenger seat.

That had been all Quinn needed to see—to know that Nat would be safe. Quinn wrapped one arm around Arshad and, with the other, jammed her elbow back into the door so it would bust wide open. Then, she dropped back and curled around Arshad so that it was her and her super healing that took the brunt of the fall. The car careened over the cliff and made the very bumpy process of crashing to the bottom of the mountains.

Unfortunately, they had moved from one frying pan to another because now the three of them were out in the open, no kind of cover whatsoever from their sniper except—Quinn, with her body still over Arshad's, looked over her shoulder at the car door that she'd busted off the hinges.

"Cover him," she barked at Natasha who rolled over to them and took Quinn's place over the man. 

The shot came before the bullet and Quinn was able to throw herself to the dirt before it hit and reached out to snatch up the door. She threw it in front of her and then scrambled to make it over to Natasha and Arshad before another round was shot off. She slammed the door down in front of them, hauled Natasha up by her upper arm, and ordered, "Hold this while I try to find this bastard."

Through the busted window, Quinn saw movement and looked out to watch someone as they made their way down the mountain, and she immediately sprinted in that direction. The sniper had literally dropped onto flat ground when she made it to them and she stopped dead in her tracks, stunned beyond all belief, because—no, it couldn't—there was no way—

Quinn, though, she would recognize that red star anywhere. 

The Winter Soldier, who she had went toe-to-toe with back in the sixties, stood in front of her. The hair was longer, down to his shoulders, and the mask had modernized some, but it was the same man—it had to be. Those eyes stared back at her, lifeless yet sharp. There wasn't even a hint of age around his eyes or anywhere else. Four decades later and the Winter Soldier didn't seem to be a day older than he was in the sixties. 

Horrified, she couldn't help but blurt, "What the fuck?" 

The Soldier came at her and she barely had time to catch the punch he aimed at her head with that metal arm. His other arm, however, she didn't have time to catch when he threw his fist into her stomach—goddamned sucker shot. She wheezed and doubled over and he took the chance to throw his flesh hand against her cheek. Quinn took the hit like a champ and, desperate, threw herself against his middle and tackled him to the ground.

"Who _are you_?" she snarled as the two of them grappled viciously on the ground but no answer came from him. He apparently hadn't gotten any more chatty since the last time they met. 

Quinn had no idea where the blade came from—an amateur mistake on her part to not watch both his hands—but he shoved it deep into her side and she shouted in pain. He took the chance to throw his metal arm into the side of her head, same as before, so it would knock her off into the dirt. He stumbled to his feet and started toward Natasha, so Quinn scrambled to reach for his legs and trip him. The Soldier whirled around to kick the side of her head and bust it open exactly where her scar was.

Two seriously hard blows to the head made her black out and maybe it had been less than a few minutes, maybe even less than an actual minute, but that was more than enough time for the Soldier to complete his mission. The sound of another gunshot tore her out of her brief unconsciousness and she fumbled to stand up, watched as the Soldier darted off in the other direction, and when she looked over where Natasha was, there were two bodies on the ground. 

"No, no, no, no," she hissed as she started to sprint toward the scene and she tripped once on the way because of how dizzy she still was. 

Arshad, it appeared, had been shot in the heart and she didn't need to check his pulse to know he didn't have one. So, Quinn dropped down next to Natasha and pulled the redhead up into her lap. Nat moaned in pain, but thank God that she made a noise at all. Quinn moved Nat's blood-stained hand out of the way so she could take a peek at the damage. It seemed to be a clear and clean shot, through and through.

"I stood up," Nat hissed and then made a noise of pain when Quinn forced her hand back over the wound to press down hard while Quinn herself ripped the hem of her shirt off so she could have something to plug the wound with. "It was stupid. I stood up to check on you and he fucking shot through me to get to Namdar."

"Then don't do it a second time, okay? Even if I'm screamin' bloody murder, leave me behind. Innocent people, they come above all else. Remember that," Quinn explained. "But don't you dare blame yourself on this one, Nat. It's on me. I'm the super soldier. I shouldn't've let that bastard best me that way." 

Nat dropped her head back into the dirt hard, frustrated with herself. "Who was he? You froze up. You knew him, didn't you?"

"Someone that should be dead or—I don't know. The Winter Soldier, that's what the Soviets called him back in the day, back in the _sixties_. I need to talk to Fury because he didn't look—maybe they had—nevermind that. We need help." With bloody hands, Quinn reached down into her pocket for her cell phone to call in some goddamn backup.

 

Later, at the hospital, Clint had wrapped Quinn up in his arms and muttered, "Glad you're safe." Then, he had scurried into Natasha's hospital room to climb into the bed and wrap himself around her. Quinn didn't have the heart to run in there and tell him that he probably shouldn't do that because of Nat's wound.

 

“Let me look into it,” Nick had mumbled when she was done with her debrief of the mission and looked almost as troubled as she felt. “I'll get back to you when I know more about him and the situation.”

But if ever found shit out about the Winter Soldier, he never told Quinn.

 

\---

 

Barely even a month later, a frantic Pepper called Quinn and practically shouted over the phone that, "Tony's been kidnapped. The unit that escorted him back to the base was attacked and they have no idea where he could be. They only found his cell phone at the site and—how can they even be sure he's not dead? Oh my God, Quinn, what if—" 

The screen of Quinn's own cell phone cracked with how hard she had gripped it. Voice devoid of any emotion, she ordered the other woman, "Get me in touch with Rhodey, Pepper." Immediately, Pepper reached out Rhodey over in Afghanistan and, in turn, linked him up with Quinn. "Tell me what base you're at. I'm coming to help look for him."

Rhodey, bless him, took it like a champ and immediately protested since, "Quinn, you don't have any recent experience—"

"Yes, I do. Even if I _didn't_ , you shouldn't pass up the chance to have a super soldier there on your six and you know it. I can handle the red tape and the clearance and the rest of that political bullshit. Now, I love you, Rhodey, but you need to shut the fuck up and tell me where you are."

 

\---

 

The more time that passed, the more desperate, frustrated, and ruthless she became and Rhodey hadn’t been in a much better spot. Before they both knew it, three months had went by and all they had to show for it was shit. People wanted to end the search, chalked him up for dead, and she’d had to use her pull in SHIELD to make sure they didn’t abandon the search for Tony. 

A decent scrap of information—which they’d had a thousand times over the past three months, but she didn’t have the luxury to complain—had come in that sent them to a particular patch of land. As always, Quinn was on the side, nearest to a window so that she could watch the area for both enemies and any hint of activity that could lead to Tony’s whereabouts. A few of the soldiers had whispered behind her back how it amazed them what she could see with her fancy super soldier peepers.

Then, in the middle of the desert, she had spotted a lone man who stumbled and was dressed in no way similar to a local. There was a shirt over his head to protect him somewhat from the heat, but the dirtied tank was out of place. 

Quinn knew—she _knew_ that it was him and it _was_. They had found him. 

As Tony dropped to his knees at the, no doubt, pretty picture the helicopters made, Rhodey darted ahead of Quinn and the rest of their squad. Quinn could hear Rhodey ask, “How was the fun-vee?” Rhodey bent down on a knee and pulled Tony against him as he added, “Next time you ride with me.” With how the two of them clutched onto each other for dear life, she knew exactly how much they cared for one another, even if they weren’t exactly ready to admit it to themselves. 

When Tony, with Rhodey’s help, stumbled over closer to them, Quinn had shoved her weapon into someone’s arms and then reached out to wrap her arms around Tony. “You fuckin’ little shit,” she breathed out and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “If you wanted to know if I’m able to have heart attacks, all you had to do was ask. The answer is no, by the way, but it was a close call.”

“Good God, they must’ve been desperate if they called you into action,” Tony mumbled and let his head drop into the crook of his neck as he returned the embrace.

Quinn closed her eyes and nearly cried in relief. “I missed you too, Tony.” 

 

At the base, Tony had refused to let any doctor other than her check him over. So, in a private room, he made sure she locked the door behind her before he pulled his shirt up and over his head. Quinn was pretty decent now when it came to control of her expressions, so she could school it to an indifferent one when she saw the blue circle of light in the middle of his chest. But what she wanted to do was stare in horror at what had been done to Tony. What _else_ had they done to him? 

“What is it?” she questioned as she reached out to trace it with her fingertips.

“Miniature arc reactor,” he answered and watched her closely, for any kind of reaction. “Best I could do with what I had—what they'd made was a lot worse so I had to upgrade. It keeps the shrapnel out of my heart. Last I saw before I blacked out, before I woke up with them, was my name.” Her lips pursed. “My weapons,” he added quietly and ended it there. God, it had been forever, but she could remember how she hadn't wanted to talk about her own shit—especially so soon after—so she decided not to push any further. Her mouth did open, though, to ask another question, but he knew her too well because he cut her off with, “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

Quinn took a seat next to Tony on the bed and studied him as much as he did her. She could remember, decades and decades before, how sometimes Bucky had stared nowhere but had a haunted sort of look to him, how he had sometimes woken up, tucked between her and Steve in a tent or in London, and she and Steve had to work real hard to calm him down. The exact same had happened with her, too, and even now, she sometimes woke up with those terrible memories on Zola’s table stuck in her head. When she saw Tony, she saw the exact same look that’d been in Bucky’s eyes, in hers, in every person who’d seen combat or any other kind of traumatic experience…

“Tony, I know you won’t, but let me care about you a second, okay?” she whispered and took him back into her arms. “I know what it’s like…a little—to have someone do shit to your body without your say-so, to…violate you and—” he slumped against her and let out a little breath and she buried her face in his hair. “I’m here, kiddo. You ever wanna talk about it or if you need someone there who knows but don’t say a word, I’m there too. I’m here for you in any kinda way.”

“Thanks, Quinn.”

 

It made sense that Pepper and Rhodey would lean on her to sway Tony about the—in their minds, anyway—rash decision to close down the weapons division of Stark Industries. Quinn would maybe talk to him about where the decision stemmed from, the experiences that led to it, but she refused to try and convince him to change his mind and she told them both as much. She had never much approved of Howard’s whole _have the bigger stick (dick)_ policy, anyhow.

When Quinn dropped by to visit him before she headed back to New York and work at the hospital, the first question out of Tony's mouth was, “How do you do it? How do you know when you're making the right choice?”

“I honestly don't, a lot of the time,” she answered both immediately and honestly while her nose scrunched up some. “I'm not perfect, though. I fuck up. I make bad calls. But…for the ones I don't mess up on, it starts out that…well, all you can do is ask yourself if it's the best call and if your gut says yes then I think it usually is.” She patted Dummy on the head when he pushed a chair over her way and it whirred happily. While she sat down next to him in front of his little work station, she asked, “What's goin’ on, Tony?”

“Is this the best idea?” Tony waved toward the multiple news channels that JARVIS had pulled up of the press conference where he’d made his announcement about the shutdown. “Is this the right thing to do?”

She shrugged. “You're the whiz-kid, so you tell me.” Then, she reached out and rubbed his back. “Whatever you decide to do in the end, I'll always back you up, but…I am proud of what you're doin’ now.” 

Tony rubbed his forehead. "You're probably the only one." Then, quieter, he mumbled, "I know it's no excuse, but I didn't _know_. How many innocent people have my weapons killed because they fell in the wrong hands? I've destroyed so many lives and profited off each and every one. I have to do _something_ to make up for that."

"Pretty sure you don't make money if your shit ends up on the black market," Quinn pointed out and he huffed out a laugh. "You didn't know about it, Tony, but you don't want to hear excuses, so we'll leave it at that, okay? Do you think this is the right choice?" He nodded in answer. "Then there you go. Like you said at the press conference, you have so much more to offer than weapons. You're _more_ than those weapons. Do somethin' amazing for the world, kiddo."

"I plan on it." When Tony looked over at her, he seemed a little bit more relieved than before, and that was all she needed to see.

 

\---

 

A few months later, in the middle of the night, her cell phone vibrated on the nightstand beside her bed and, with a groan, she answered it without a glance at who it could be. When she answered it, Tony ranted, "Obie's been double-dealing under the table, Quinn, behind my back. He's trying to shove me out of my own goddamned company so he can keep reaping the benefits of all this death and destruction." 

Quinn rubbed at her eyes and leaned up in bed. "What do you need?"

"I…" Maybe he hadn't expected her to ask that, but then he admitted, "I need support."

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can." 

 

As soon as Quinn's plane landed, a text came in from Tony that directed her to head to Stark Industries because Pepper needed some kind of help. Quinn didn't want to leave Tony alone, but if that's what he needed her to do then she would do whatever she could to help him out. 

Pepper near about had a heart attack when Quinn knocked on the door to Tony's office where the other woman was hid out at. "You would make a terrible spy," Quinn commented because whatever Pepper needed to do for Tony, it probably wasn't legal or safe because she looked frazzled and guilty as hell to boot. "What're you doing for Tony and why do you need me?"

"I'm, um, hacking into the systems and making copies of shipping manifests, anything that can implicate Obadiah in what he’s been doing," Pepper explained. "But I…I found something else and I think you should look at it."

Before Pepper even showed her the video, she had shown her what Obadiah had been up to in Sector Sixteen and explained that Tony, in that cave, had made a cruder but functional model of the same. Tony had created a better one, in his self-imposed exile from the media over the past few months, and had used that to help attack the terrorists over in Gulmira. Obadiah somehow stole the design for himself and wanted to recreate it. 

Then—oh, but then Quinn watched the video of Tony surrounded by the people who had held him hostage, listened to the translation, learned that it had been Obadiah who hired the terrorists to murder Tony. When the ugly truth made itself clear, her hand that had been holding onto the edge of the desk clenched so hard that it started to crack underneath her strong grip. Pepper only jumped a little at the sound of it.

And speak of the devil, Stane had slithered into the room like the filthy snake that he was. Since Pepper needed more time, Quinn smoothly lied, with the sweetest smile on her face, "Oh, hey there, Obadiah. I came to check on Tony, but I found Pepper instead and we came in here to talk a little, in private, since we're all so worried about Tony, y'know?"

Stane smiled—a forced one that was so much like the one he'd shot her at the event to celebrate Tony when he took over Stark Industries, where Quinn had explicitly threatened to put him a world of hurt if he ever hurt Tony and here they were. "I understand. We're all concerned about him."

"Hmm," she hummed and glanced at the screen out of the corner of her eyes, where the computer said that it had finally completed making the copies. "I actually wanted to talk to you a little, Obadiah. Maybe if you told me what's up, I could talk to Tony 'bout it. Everyone seems to think he'll listen to me." Pepper put the paper she had in her hand over the little drive and Quinn patted her on the shoulder. "Go on and butter him up for me, Pepper. I'll be there soon."

Quinn made sure to escort Pepper out, smiled widely and nodded when Pepper stared at her, panic clear as day in her eyes, and then ushered the other woman out of the office. Once the door was closed and locked behind Pepper, Quinn turned that sickly sweet smile back on Stane.

"What'd I tell you, Stane? Huh? What'd I tell you?" Quick as a whip, she lashed out and wrapped her hand around his throat, let the fury bleed out into her expression. "You stabbed him in the back, you fucking piece of shit, and maybe I could let you live and watch them put you through the ringer for that, but then you went and tried to have him killed." She squeezed tighter, so it would cut off his air supply, and he choked, tried to pull her hand off his throat. "I'll make it hurt, Stane, and I'll throw your body away where no one can find it and not a goddamn person is gonna miss you, asshole."

Quinn never even realized that he would have some kind of protection on his person, so she didn't watch his other hand until he lifted up a device and switched it on. A high-pitched whirring noise rang in the air and she shouted in pain because it was so goddamned _loud_ to her enhanced ears. Suddenly, her whole body upped and gave out on her and she couldn't help but drop Stane because she dropped to the floor, completely and totally immobile, every inch of her paralyzed.

Stane stumbled back from her, sputtering, sucking in gulps of air, and glowered down at her. Once he had his composure back, he crouched down in front of her. "Guess it's good I was already prepared." He tapped his ear lobes where he had some kind of ear plugs stuck inside them—those had been what saved him from the effects of the noise. "This company is _mine_ , not his, and when I rip that arc reactor out of his chest, the company is going to be in my hands again where it should've gone in the first place." He stroked her cheek and she wished she could at least turn her head to bite him. "I did what Howard never could—I finally got to shut you up, Hayden. I'll come back for you and I'll kill you. You're a relic, anyway, so no one will miss you. I did like Miss Potts, though. It's a shame I'll have to kill her."

Then, he left her there to stew in her terror—because that bastard was headed for Tony and he was headed for Pepper and there wasn't _shit_ that Quinn could do to warn them about it. 

 

Slowly but surely, Quinn could start to move her limbs. It hadn’t actually taken as long as she expected—maybe about five minutes or so. The first few times that she tried to stand back up, she dropped flat back on her face. Jesus, whatever Stane used had done a real number on her. She hadn't ever been so weak since probably the forties, before the serum had settled in her system completely.

When she _could_ move around, as wobbly as she was, she called Tony and, in her head, prayed over and over, _don't be too late, don't be too late, don't be too late_ , but there had been no answer. “Fuck,” she screamed and tried to force her body to cooperate, to move _faster_.

Before she could even make a break for it out of the office, three men stepped inside the room with her. They were, without a doubt, on Stane’s detail because they were armed and had no kind of Stark Industries identifier on them. Stane had probably sent them in after him so that they could pick her up, take her off somewhere, and wait until Stane could show up himself and have her killed. 

Well, Quinn had wanted to beat Stane’s face in, but these fellas would do her fine in the meantime. 

 

Knuckles bloody and hands gripped tight around the steering wheel, Quinn probably broke about a hundred different laws on the road to Tony’s mansion. The front door was wide open when she screeched to a halt in front of the place, so she sprinted inside, her heart in her throat. “JARVIS,” she shouted. “Where is he?” 

“In the elevator, Miss Hayden,” the AI informed her. “Obadiah Stane has removed the arc reactor from Mister Stark’s chest. There may be a suitable replacement in the lab, but Mister Stark is running out of time. He has been temporarily paralyzed, it appears.” 

Quinn didn’t even acknowledge the information because she’d already started to head down the staircase and to the lab. Panicked, she looked around for whatever was supposed to replace the arc reactor and _there_ —on the table, the old arc reactor in a glass case, wrapped around the words _PROOF THAT TONY STARK HAS A HEART_. She smashed the case on the table and picked up the arc reactor, as gently as she could because she had no idea how delicate the technology was, and when she headed over to the elevator, she almost tripped over Tony, who’d fallen to the floor and dragged himself toward his work station.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” she assured him and dropped down to her knees. “Tell me what to do, okay? Tell me—” but he’d already taken the arc reactor from her hands and shakily took the end of the wire, shoved it into the empty socket in the middle of his chest, and there was a click. Tony sucked in a deep, shuddering breath as he then inserted the arc reactor into his chest.

“My hero,” Tony coughed. From upstairs, both of them could hear Rhodey start to shout Tony’s name and he amended his earlier statement with, “ _Heroes_.”

“We’re down here, Rhodey!” Quinn yelled back at Rhodey before she looked down at Tony, patted him on the chest, and explained, “I’ll try to buy you some time to put on your fancy robot suit. Maybe I can stop him before he does whatever he plans to do.” He stared at her in surprise and she said, “Pepper told me.”

“You can’t take him on, Quinn. You can’t—”

“I can try,” she snapped and launched to her feet, headed over to one of his cars, and then sped out of the opening garage doors. “Thank you, JARVIS,” she mumbled as she sped out and onto the streets.

 

Earlier, Pepper had shown her that Obadiah’s prototype had been in the newly formed Sector Sixteen which was underneath the huge arc reactor. So, Quinn had to run off some vague memories about where the large arc reactor was located. The last time she had seen it had been when it was revealed and God knew how long ago that'd been. Everything had changed, but then she saw some sleek black cars which was the bad guy standard nowadays apparently. She parked the car and headed toward the open door of the factory. As soon as she made it past the threshold, there was the sound of a small explosion, and she sprinted toward the noise. She was about to put her fist through someone's heart had she not seen the man at the head of the group.

" _Phil_?"

Phil seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. "Doctor Hayden, what are you doing here?" He waved a hand at the few agents with him and they lowered their weapons aimed at her.

Pepper shoved past Phil and darted over to Quinn, terrified. "Oh my God, Quinn, what happened to your _ears_?" Quinn's brows furrowed and she touched her ears, rubbed at the crusted liquid, and when she pulled her hand away, her fingers were stained red. "I'm so sorry that I didn't come back! What did he _do_ to you? I was sure that he wouldn't _do_ anything because you're…well, _you_. I can’t believe he hurt you."

"Calm down, Pepper. I’m okay. It's healed now.” Quinn looked over at Phil and ordered, “Get Pepper and your men out of here _now_. These men aren’t nearly enough to take down Stane. He’s finished his other suit. Let me handle it. I have the strength and the speed to at least buy Tony a little bit of time to get here.”

Phil started to shake his head. “If that’s the case, Doctor Hayden, then—” he was cut off by a loud series of crashes that came from inside the Sector Sixteen room to which the other agents rushed in—despite what _she’d literally just told them_. Phil, at least, looked as frustrated with them as Quinn was. “Take Miss Potts to safety, Doctor Hayden. We’ll try to buy you time so you can then buy Mister Stark some time.”

From the way bullets started firing off and the pinging of metal against metal, she had a feeling that even _she_ wouldn’t be able to buy Tony much time. Quinn rushed to corral Pepper out of the building, into the parking lot, but when they made it out there, the concrete started to crack and crumble. Quinn held out an arm and then shoved Pepper behind her. Stane, hidden inside his own…Tony knockoff suit, crawled out of the huge hole and towered over the two women. 

And to think that Quinn had once believed Johann Schmidt was the craziest shit she’d ever seen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Stane’s tinny voice asked them. The huge metal arm with a machine gun attached started to raise and Pepper shouted in terror as Stane pointed it at them. Quinn shoved Pepper back more, away from the weapon. “Your services are no longer required, Miss Potts. As for you, Hayden, I’ll have to take care of you myself.”

Quinn didn’t even take a second to think about it. Her only priority was to keep Pepper safe, no matter the cost, so she threw her hands out, grabbed Stane’s metal arm, and used all her strength to start to raise the arm up into the air before the bullets could fly. Thankfully, at the same time, Tony’s own voice rang out from the skies, screaming, “Stane!” Then, a much smaller fiery blur crashed into Stane and knocked him back down into the ground. 

A few stressful minutes later, after there were honks and crashes from the street—which meant that the battle must've led out onto the streets—both women watched as fire streaked across the skies and disappeared up into the clouds. In the darkness and so far away, even with her eyes, she couldn’t see much. She let out a relieved sigh when she saw Tony, in his own armor, descend back onto the roof, the jets on his feet sputtering out, but he hadn’t blown up and dropped down in pieces, so it was a win.

“Potts,” she heard Tony’s voice from Pepper’s earpiece speak up.

“Tony,” Pepper replied and sounded as relieved as Quinn felt. “Oh my God, are—are you okay?”

“I’m almost out of power. I’ve got to get out of this thing. I’ll be right there. Stay with Quinn until I do.”

Stane, though, the bastard, he didn’t know how to quit and she saw when he landed back on the top of the roof where Tony was. Tony told Pepper that he was almost out of power and there was no way she would let Stane take out her boy. She sprinted back inside the building, leaving Pepper behind because she would be okay if the battle kept up on the roof, and rushed up the staircase.

Flares shot across the rooftop like fireworks when Quinn busted the door to the rooftop wide open. “Very clever, Tony,” Stane commended. Smoke started to spread across the area around him which provided the perfect cover for Quinn to throw herself at Stane’s back—but she was positive he wouldn’t have seen her with or without the smoke since he, unlike Tony, didn’t have anyone to watch his back. “What the—”

“Hey, Stane,” she shouted and shoved her hand down into the open crevice between the torso of the armor and the helmet, gritted her teeth against the sudden pain and burn of the electricity on her fingers, and pulled out whatever she could manage to get her hands around. “That wasn't important, was it?” she asked while she ripped out the wires.

Stane started to fly around, trying to throw her off of him, and while she tried to rip out more wires while still trying to keep her grip on his back, he managed to get one of those huge claws around her and squeezed so tight that she was sure a few ribs may’ve cracked or broke or both. Quinn got a sudden rush of vertigo when Stane flung her across the roof. She landed in the middle of the roof, where there was a glass portion that revealed the huge arc reactor below, and she grunted in pain. At least he hadn’t thrown her through a wall.

Quinn hauled herself to her feet and just as Tony came out of the shadows and tackled her back to the ground, Stane started to fire off rounds from that machine gun on his arm. There was a sudden sharp pain that stabbed at the place above her collarbone and the pain spread across the rest of her body. The front of Quinn’s shirt started to dampen and she could smell and test the metallic scent that came with blood.

“Goddamn it, Quinn, you fucking martyr,” Tony snarled and covered her body with his metal suit as bullets continued to rain down on them—well, on his back. “Fuck, okay, we need to get off this roof now. Pepper’s about to overload the main reactor.” Then, to Pepper, he asked, “How are you doing down there, Potts?”

It was hard to focus on more than the pain and she pressed her hand on the bullet wound—one of the bullets must've caught her, but at least she wasn't chuck full of them. While Stane started his evil mastermind monologue, Tony hurriedly said, “I'm sorry,” to her before he picked Quinn up and threw her a few feet away. The movement jostled the hole in her collarbone and she moaned in pain.

The sound of shattering glass echoed in the air and she turned her head to the side in time to see Tony, who clung onto the steel railings of the now-shattered glass ceiling, stare back at her with panic. “Quinn, take cover!”

Quinn couldn't do much other than curl into a ball and hope for the best for both herself and Tony when the rooftop exploded.

 

When it was all set and done, when Tony had announced, “I am Iron Man,” Quinn went to see Tony one more time and the first thing he did was wrap his arms around Quinn.

"The shit I do for you,” she teased while she returned the hug tenfold.

“God, I hate you. Do you know how much I hate hugs? Why do I always hug you? It is very, very gross. Okay. Good talk.” He patted her on the back and then leaned away with a smile. 

Quinn read between the lines and smiled at him. “Yeah, I love you too, Tony.” 

 

**2010.**

Government wanted Tony’s suit, but that honestly didn't surprise her because they wanted whatever weapon they could get their hands on, and whether that weapon was a suit of armor or a woman enhanced by a super soldier serum they didn't care. It made her snort and crack up a few times while she watched Tony wreak havoc at a Senate committee and quickly shut down the idea that anyone else had his technology recreated or that he was in any kind of way obligated to hand over his armor.  

Pepper called Quinn quite a lot these days, mostly to complain about Tony with exasperate fondness—though, recently, it was to criticize his most recent decision to launch a new Stark Expo that the world hadn't seen since the seventies. Quinn couldn't help but think that both Tony and Pepper were real close—they both talked about each other so fondly. Then again, Tony had the same tone when it came to Rhodey. Quinn was sure that Tony loved both Pepper _and_ Rhodey, but…well, Tony wouldn't know love if it slapped him in the face so maybe he wasn't aware of it and she wouldn't push any of them. They would figure it out in their own time.

Anyway, when Pepper called, Quinn assumed it was to bitch some more about Tony, but then she whispered, “Tony made me CEO of the company,” and that…definitely threw Quinn for a loop. Okay, maybe not so much, because Pepper pretty much ran the company and Tony must've realized that—it was that or he was too lazy to run Stark Industries anymore. No matter what the reason was, Quinn was so happy for Pepper because if anyone deserved the position, it was definitely her, and Quinn told her as much. 

 

Not more than a week later, the stunt at the Monaco Grand Prix race really concerned Quinn and it wasn't only because someone had actually recreated Tony’s arc reactor and used it to make electric…whips? That seemed like the best description. She looked at the videos of Tony and her stomach twisted itself in anxious knots. 

Maybe she should've predicted the call from Nick would come. “The palladium in your boy’s chest is killing him. He doesn't have much longer. I've had Agent Romanoff placed in Stark Industries as his new assistant and she's confirmed it, even if his recent behavior didn't clue you in on it beforehand.” 

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to lose anymore people. She was tired of watching the people she loved wither away and die. "Why does SHIELD care so much about Tony?"

"Because your boy has too much to offer the world," Nick answered bluntly. "We've come up with something that can abate the symptoms, but the only person that can come up with a cure is him."

 

"Hey, how'd you deal with the whole…threesome idea back in the forties?" Tony abruptly questioned once Quinn had made it past the destruction that'd rained down on the mansion to where he was hidden down in his lab.

Why Tony shot her questions that were way out of the ballpark, she didn't know, but she knew how to roll with his punches. "We didn't—I think—this is complicated," she complained but barrelled on nonetheless. "I don't think that we ever came at it like that. Just…bit by bit, I fell in love with 'em both and they'd already been in love with each other, so when we admitted it to ourselves, the transition to more was easy."

"I fucked up, Quinn," he breathed out as she dropped down next to him. "I fucked it up with Pepper. I fucked it up with Rhodey _big time_. _Why_ am I like this? Why can't I ever keep a good thing?"

"Honey, I'm the founder of the _can't keep a good thing_ club," she shot back. "There's still some time to fix it, I think. They'd be madder at you if you gave up on trying to find your cure and upped and died on 'em and they didn't even know. Also, I'd be heartbroken too, and you don't want an old lady to cry, do you?" He snorted but smiled a little bit. She leaned over to kiss the side of his head. "Get to work, egghead, and fix your fuck-ups."

She went to stand up, but he snatched her wrist, and she looked down at him with a raised brow. Swear to God, she was sure Tony actually _blushed_. "Can you…uh, stay here with me? I…uh, may need a heavy lifter later on."

"Sure, Tony," she whispered and dropped back down beside him. 

Neither of them talked about how he practically curled up against her side and shook and shook.

 

_Why_ did the men in her life attract so much trouble? Quinn would never ever know. Of course Tony caused a whole mess of trouble at the Stark Expo, but it had all worked out in the end. Justin Hammer had been arrested, Ivan Vanko had blown himself to kingdom come, and the new Stark Expo had been trashed, but she was positive that Tony could handle the costs of it—Pepper now, actually, since she was the new CEO. 

Quinn hoped that she wouldn't see Tony in any more trouble because she was sure that, even with her slowed aging, that boy would make her go gray. She stopped by the mansion to see him before she headed down to New Mexico to help Phil out with some kind of SHIELD-related business in Nick's stead since Nick was preoccupied with, who else, Tony.

"Hey, JARVIS, where's Tony?" she inquired when she let herself inside. It was pretty early, so she assumed that he was probably in bed still. Of course, in his defense, he'd had a rough night before.

"In his bedroom, Miss Hayden," JARVIS confirmed.

What Quinn had certainly not expected to see, when she opened the door to Tony's bedroom, were three _extremely_ naked bodies in the large bed. Tony and Rhodey were a little wrapped up in each other, but Pepper wasn't and screamed when she saw Quinn in the doorway and rushed to cover herself with the blankets strewn on the floor.

"Fuck, shit, fuck," Quinn shouted and threw her hands over her eyes. "I'm _so sorry_! I didn't think that—oh my _God_. I'm so happy for you three, but that is _way_ more than I needed to see of any of you. I'm scarred for life and I had to fight against a man with a red fucking face."

"Quinn Hayden saw me naked," Pepper moaned in embarrassment and Quinn kept her eyes covered, but her face was probably redder than an apple. "My life is over."

"Stop _laughing_ , Tony," Rhodey snapped.

"I love the three of you very, very much, and I'm—I'll let you, uh…y'know…"

"Have fantastic sex?" Tony supplied helpfully and Quinn would've slapped him upside the head herself, but Pepper and Rhodey took care of that themselves. "Ouch," he complained loudly at the dual slaps.

 

\---

 

"It's a hammer."

Phil took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead. "Yes, that dropped out of the sky and can't be pulled out by any heavy machinery."

Arms crossed over her chest, Quinn hummed and turned her head to the side to raise a brow at Clint—who had been called down to New Mexico, too. Clint nodded, smirked as he did it, and Quinn looked back at Phil and repeated, "So, it's a hammer."

"They headed back into the town," Phil explained rather than take her bait. "You're an excellent judge of character, so if you don't mind, would you tail them and see if you can get a feel for him?"

"Still a hammer," Quinn shouted on her way out of the SHIELD containment. 

 

The agents had informed Quinn that both the scientist and the man who'd completely torn through each and every SHIELD agent that Phil had thrown at him were in the local bar. She shoved on a ball cap, walked into the hole in the wall place, took a seat, and ordered herself a beer.

The two of them kept at the bar for a few hours and drank and drank and drank some more until the scientist—Doctor Selvig, was maybe what Phil told her his name was—was fucking trashed. Quinn trailed them and stood around outside the little trailer that blondie and another much, much cuter scientist, Jane Foster, disappeared into then came back out of a few minutes later to head up to the roof.

Quinn wasn't exactly sneaky about it, so she wasn't surprised when their unknown came to stand in front of her where she was seated on a bench. "Howdy," she drawled and pulled off the ball cap.

If the man was surprised about who she was, he didn't let on about it. "You've followed us since we were at the tavern. Why?" 

_Tavern_ —and Tony told Quinn that _she_ talked old. "Just curious about yah," she replied. "Say, what's your name, anyway? Your _real_ name," she added when he opened his mouth to lie with whatever name had been on that fake license of his.

"You would not believe me," he told her.

"Try me," she shot back and patted the empty spot next to her. 

 

Thor—that was what he introduced himself as and then he explained his story, after Quinn pushed him to. From what she understood, his people were…aliens, basically. They weren't gods, he corrected when she tried that, because they lived and die the same as any other person—only at a much slower rate. At that tidbit of information, when he told her how old he truly was, something in her chest uncurled and she wanted to cry.

Still, Quinn had a job to do, so she stopped him with, "Guess all I really need to know is if you mean any harm…to the, uh, planet." Again, to think that, at one point, she'd believed the craziest she'd seen was her pretty-much-nephew in a metal suit. 

"No," Thor answered and she knew he meant it. "No, I would never harm anyone. I'm not sure that I could since I've been stripped of my power. I hope to be worthy one day, but that day is not today and maybe it will never come."

She clapped him on the shoulder. "Chin up. You're learnin'." She hauled herself to her feet and stretched, looked at her cell phone for the time. Damn, she'd talked with him for a nice chunk of time. "I hope it works out for you, Thor. You seem like a real nice fella."

"You never told me your name," he pointed out.

"Quinn Hayden," she introduced. "I'll tell the boys at SHIELD to lay off you and your lady friend. I'll also see if I can maybe convince them to hand back over her equipment." 

Thor stood up and snatched her wrist before she walked away. "It was nice to meet you, Lady Quinn." Then, he leaned down and kissed the top of her hand.

Quinn did absolutely _not_ blush.

 

"He's clean," Quinn told Phil as she passed him by and headed toward her rental car. "By the way, consultant, my ass! I do way more work than a normal consultant!"

"Sorry not sorry!" Clint shouted back and she made sure to flip him the bird as she sped out into the desert.


	10. 2011 - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn's whole world changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what this chapter is. I pretty much already had it written out. Also, I jump into present tense because I do what I want (also, it's finally not about the past anymore). Also, I wanted to thank you all so much for your support. I woke up this morning to a full inbox and it was wonderful! <3

Whenever Quinn shows up at their Malibu mansion when there's not any kind of trouble that Tony's in, she tries to pretend the reason she's there _isn't_ to check up on a certain man-child—now, mind you, those are Pepper's words there because Quinn's always called Tony like she's seen him which is a brat. Quinn will never ever, on the pain of death, admit it out loud because God knows how sore a spot Howard is for Tony, but the kid is his old man up and down in the fact that he knows machines like the back of his hand but is an absolute moron when it comes to other people and their emotions—especially when those emotions are directed at him. So, Quinn isn't sure if Tony knows about her ulterior motives to check up on him now and then, but Pepper on the other hand, who's quick as a whip and such a dime—seriously, how did Tony and Rhodey ever get so lucky—makes Quinn every damn time. 

 

Quinn isn’t stupid. Quinn knows that Pepper knows, but she still pulls excuses out of her ass. Some of her most revisited lines are that it’s so much warmer on the west coast than it is over on the other side of the country so she wanted to drop by while she was close or that Pepper does so well with money and bank accounts and Quinn’s never been the best with that shit so she wanted to see if she could have some help. It’s so damn sad, yes, that Quinn would rather pull the old lady card than own up to the fact that she loves and adores this kid and wants to make sure he’s okay. A whole lot’s happened to him in the past couple of years and she’s worried about him, so sue her. 

 

“You should’ve called ahead to let us know you were in town,” Pepper scolds and Quinn ducks her head like the nice little southern belle the world thinks she is. “Well, it’s not like we don’t have room for you. Are you in the mood for some breakfast?” 

 

And because Ma and Pa raised her with some damn manners, Quinn insists that, “You don’t have to do that on my account. I didn’t plan to stay.” And here is where she puts her bullshit excuses to use, “It’s still chilly over on the east coast, so after I stopped by to see y'all before I planned to head down to—” 

 

Pepper shuts Quinn up when she shoots her that look, the one she’s had to perfect over the years because it’s what a person needs when they’re around Tony all the time. “Sometimes, I think you’re worse than Tony. Let’s skip the part where you try and lie to me about why you’re here and you come inside already. I haven’t eaten yet.”  

 

“At least let me cook?” she offers. 

 

“Sure,” Pepper smiles and opens up her arms which Quinn steps into without hesitation and returns the embrace with a little smile. God, but does she love Pepper, too. “It’s so nice to see you, Quinn. It's been a little while since we saw you.” By little while, she means maybe four months. They step away and she leans down to pick up Quinn’s duffel, slaps Quinn's hands away when she tries to take it from Pepper, and asks, “How have you been?” 

 

Quinn scrunches up her nose, but steps inside when Pepper waves her on. “I’m, uh, doin’ fine, I suppose,” she lies. Pepper doesn’t need to hear about how ashamed Quinn is these days because she’d rather be on the other side of the world than be around her own flesh and blood anymore. Thomas, her nephew, officially looks older than her and she can hardly stand to look at him or her great-nieces, let alone look at her little brother or even Josie. Pegs isn't in the best of shape, if her kids calls are much to go by. No one has much time left—except for Quinn. Quinn has all the damn time in the world. It's yet another of the many ways her body's betrayed her. 

 

“Have you heard about the tower in New York?” Bless her, Pepper knows when Quinn’s stuck inside her head and moves the conversation on to help her break out of it. “If you don’t and Tony asks, please lie and say you do. I’m as proud as he is of it, believe me, but he doesn’t shut up about it.” 

 

“I’ve heard.” Quinn snorts and heads toward the kitchen where she then tries to locate what she’ll need to make breakfast. She’s in the mood for pancakes, maybe eggs, maybe bacon, and maybe sausage—hell, there may not be any to share with Pepper or Tony, what with how her appetite is nowadays. “He called me when you came up with the idea and it was too damn early for me to listen to him when he’s on one of those…y’know, science benders, so I told him to call back at a decent hour and tell me ‘bout it then.” She makes a sour face. “He went on and on about it and hasn’t ever stopped since, I think. And even if he didn’t tell me ‘bout it, it’s still all over the papers.” 

 

Pepper blushes. “I didn’t come up with the idea.” 

 

“You did.” Another voice chirps and Quinn, who’s been on a hunt for some kind of bowl to mix batter in, looks over her shoulder and watches Tony take the last step up from the basement then stroll over to plop down beside Pepper at the island. “I see my favorite freeloader’s in town.” He drinks from a tumbler that Quinn swears up and down has some kind of toxic sludge in it…but she’d rather it be that than booze. “Oh, and you’re cooking? What’s for breakfast? Let’s have pancakes. I want some pancakes. Wait. It is breakfast, isn’t it?” He takes out his phone to check the time. 

 

“If you actually joined us humans once in a while, you would know.” Pepper huffs but leans over to peck him on the cheek, anyway. “By the way, I know how bad you are with people, but even you should know to be nicer to the person who’s about to make your food. She’ll spit in those pancakes if you’re not careful.” 

 

“No, no,” Quinn shakes her head, bends down to pull the mixing bowl she’s finally found from underneath the counter, and leans up to look at them head-on. “Back in my day—” 

 

“The Jurassic era?” Tony provides oh-so-helpfully. 

 

Both women roll their eyes. “Yes, you little shit, the Jurassic era.” She starts to pour some flour into the bowl, adds in the works after. “Way back then, if we old farts had a problem with someone we duked it out. We didn’t do no sneaky shit like spit in food.” She pauses then amends that with, “Okay, so maybe I don’t know about other people, but I duked it out.” 

 

“How are you not locked up in prison? Seriously?” he asks, exasperated but fond at the same time. “It's like all your solutions involve your fists. You’re insane.” He looks at Pepper, points at Quinn, and reiterates one more time that, “She’s insane.” 

 

"Sure am," Quinn replies dismissively and then looks around the house. "Hey, where's Rhodey at? He off saving the world in that fancy tin-man suit of his?" 

 

“Titanium alloy,” Tony corrects testily. Sure, she knows, but she loves how much it pisses him off when she's not scientifically correct. “And no, he's not. He's at a base, training some new recruits or something like that. _Anyway_ ,” he drawls when she dons a fond little smile because he acts like he doesn't care but he's so in love with Pepper and Rhodey it's disgusting and cute, “How's the superhero life treating _you_? Kicked any asses in the name of America? Director Eyepatch isn’t too much of a hard-ass on you, is he? I can fuck up some shit inside SHIELD to help distract him. It’d be my pleasure, trust me.” 

 

Quinn tries not to visibly squirm at the word superhero used in the same sentence as her. “You tell me. You're the only superhero I see in here.” 

 

“Oh? I was sort of under the impression that you were one.” She opens her mouth, but he waves and insists, “You’ve done heroic shit your whole life and that was before you were hopped up on your seriously freaky steroids. Add that up and you're a superhero. It's a simple equation, really.” 

 

“You know it’s true, Quinn,” Pepper adds with a smile that matches Tony’s where they both know how uncomfortable this makes Quinn but don’t care a bit about it. “Girls everywhere look up to you as their role model and hero. Haven’t they done that since World War Two?” she asks innocent-like. 

 

“Pep did, I bet.” Pepper smacks him on the arm, embarrassed, and Tony turns to her. “Call your mom. Ask her to send the pictures of you dressed up as a nurse. No, wait, I have a better idea. JARVIS!” he calls louder. “Order Pepper a nurse outfit. One of the adult ones. I’m sure you know what I mean.” 

 

Pepper’s face is a shade of red even Quinn in all her years hasn't seen and her own face probably isn't any better. “Anthony Edward Stark, I did not teach you to disrespect a lady like that.” He wags his brows at her, opens his mouth, and she cuts him off. “Look, whatever freaky shit you, Pepper, and Rhodey are into, that’s your business, but don’t talk to me about it.” Pepper sputters and Tony cackles at her response. “Just because I’ve seen a lot of messed up shit and dealt with it doesn’t mean I want any more added to the pile.” 

 

Tony stops with his cackles so he can snort in response to what she said. “It could be so much worse. You do realize that, don’t you? Haven’t you seen me in more fucked up situations? You’re about to be all shy when you hear that Pep likes to dress up—” 

 

“I don’t—” Pepper covers her red, red face with her hands for a second and when she uncovers it, she tries to push her boy-toy out of his seat. “I can’t believe you. You’re so awful. That’s it. I quit. I call for an immediate termination of this relationship. I'm taking Rhodey and we're running away.” 

 

He leans over, smirks slyly while he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.” He squints over at Quinn. “Hey, add in some blueberries to that batter while you’re at it.” Quinn shoots him a sharp look and he rolls his eyes. " _Please_." 

 

\--- 

 

Once breakfast’s been eaten and the dishes have been done—compliments of Tony who she’s always made do manual labor since Howard never did unless it involved some kind of a machine and she's old-fashioned in the belief that everyone should do some chores—she picks out a room to settle down in. The room is one down the hall, furthest from where Tony and Pepper sleep because Tony’s an asshole and will come up with some way to fuck with her, she knows he will, and she’ll do whatever’s possible to avoid any mind-fuckery. Jesus, sometimes she wonders why she loves this asshole kid. 

 

There're a whole bunch of perks when you're close to Tony and one of them is that, because he can't stand to be around machinery that isn't his, he likes to dish out cell phones to people who’ll be around him a lot. They're hooked up to JARVIS and, sure, he could monitor her if he really wanted to, and he is a piece of work, but Tony would never do that to her. So, she's not all that surprised when JARVIS, as soon as she's thrown her duffel onto the bed, breaks the silence of the room with, “Miss Hayden, SHIELD is on the line for you.” 

 

“You serious?” She was sure she cleared a leave with Maria before she headed out to Malibu…and maybe that's a little liberal. Quinn shot Maria and Phil an email that basically said to fuck off for a while—but in a polite way, of course, because she loves Maria and Phil. In her defense, she _is_ supposed to be a consultant, but they only seem to call when they need her serum. “Look, unless the world’s about to explode, don’t worry about it, yeah? Surely to God they can live without me for a week or two.” 

 

“I'm afraid Director Fury is quite insistent, ma'am.” 

 

That's…weird. Nick never calls her directly anymore, always has Maria or Phil do it for him instead. Still, “If he needs someone to save the world, he can call Tony. He's the one with the fancy metal suit that can blow shit up.” She heads out of the bedroom and hears a blender which means alcohol. Alcohol can't fuck her up anymore, but that doesn't make Tony stop in his attempts to see if he’ll finally be the one to make a drunk Quinn Hayden happen. It hasn’t happened in decades and it’s not about to happen now and she’s sure he’s about to resort to science to create the perfect alcohol that’ll work with her metabolism. 

 

Quinn thinks she's made her point clear with JARVIS to pass onto Nick until she's back out in the kitchen where Tony and Pepper bicker about how Tony can't make daiquiris then leave. He needs to socialize and soak up some sun because he's been down in the lab a week. Tony thinks Pepper over exaggerates, but Pepper isn’t and Quinn will back Pepper up. Quinn always sides with Pepper because she's the sane one in their triad, with Rhodey as a close second behind her. “I apologize, Miss Hayden,” the AI speaks up. Pepper and Tony quiet down. Tony makes a confused face and pulls out his phone to probably check on what JARVIS wants with her. “But I do believe you should take this call.” 

 

Well, if JARVIS is insistent about it then she should answer. He’s a machine, sure, but he’s smarter than she’ll ever be. “Patch him on through, I guess.” Quinn answers with a frown. The next second, when she’s sure Nick can hear her, she starts to complain. “Didn’t you hear? I’m on—” 

 

“Have you taken a look at your marks recently?” Nick asks without preamble and Quinn blinks at the, frankly, weird as hell question. He’s always been polite with Quinn ever since he took over for Pegs, hasn’t ever asked her about real personal stuff. Of course, that’s probably because he’s read every piece of paper on the book about Quinn, so he doesn’t really need to ask her any questions, anyway. If he wants to ask about this then it must be for a pretty solid reason, she assumes. He takes in her silence, then tells Quinn, “I think you should take a long look at those now, Doctor.” 

 

Quinn hesitates at the order. She _did_ have a mandatory checkup recently—which is SHIELD code for they want to see if her abilities are better or worse than her last checkup—so maybe that's what Nick wants to talk about? Of course, if that was the case, then why would he need to talk about her marks? She shoves down the nasty hope that crawls up her throat because she's not supposed to do that anymore. What can she possibly hope for, anyway? Both her soul mates have been dead for decades and decades. Maybe Nick's found out a way to predict when her marks show up, or what makes them show up—that'd be a damn relief, that's for sure. As many years as it's been, she hates to wake up and see dark marks and have her heart rip itself to pieces with constant reminders of what she's lost and what she'll continue to lose. 

 

As Quinn raises the hem of her shirt to peer down at her side, she doesn’t know what she expects, to be honest, but it isn’t to see a name that’s been faded since forty-five to be a dark, dark black. _Steven Grant Rogers_ —the tips of her fingers slide across each and every letter slowly. Okay…okay, she can handle this. It’s unusual that it’s Steve’s name this time, but the name on the other side of her has went black a few times before and it’s because the serum’s fucked her up more than anyone ever could’ve realized back in the war. God, but how could Nick even know? Why would he call her about this? Quinn's stomach starts to twist itself into knots with how nervous she is. 

 

“A Russian oil team discovered a downed aircraft two days ago and SHIELD was called in to investigate the crash site. It turns out that what they found was the Valkyrie.” Nick explains slowly, like that’ll help ease the hurt that comes with this old, old wound. She’s supposed to be better prepared for this news, damn it, because she’s known for decades that this was bound to happen. The world’s modernized and so have the tools, so it was only a matter of time. “Captain Rogers was in the wreckage.” She can’t breathe. Oh fuck, she can’t breathe. It starts to dawn on her now, why he asked her about her marks, and she think she’s a few seconds from a total breakdown when all the pieces drop into place. It's not possible. It's _not possible_. Don't hope, she reminds herself, don't fucking _hope_. “He was frozen—preserved. Our scientists believe the super soldier serum’s kept him…in some sort of stasis. A heartbeat wasn’t discovered until we started to thaw him out.” 

 

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. This wasn't supposed to be the news she had braced herself for all these years, at all. What she’s expected since the second Howard started his searches was, _‘W_ _e found his corpse. We’re oh-so-sorry about this, Doctor Hayden_ _.’_ She would've had him buried next to Bucky, where he should've been but had crashed a plane into the middle of the ocean. And this…this isn’t that.  

 

Dear Lord, he’s alive. Steve, her soul mate, her sweet, sweet boy, is alive. This isn’t real. It can’t be. It has to be a dream. There’s no possible way that this could happen to her in a hundred, thousand, million years. Someone needs to wake her up. This hope is terrible. It’s bad and awful and she doesn’t think she can stand to wake up and have it be crushed. God, she hurts and hopes at the same time. It's a bad idea—bad, bad, _bad_. 

 

“Doctor Hayden,” Nick picks back up now that she’s had some time to process the news, as if she can handle the news well. “We have him back home in New York. He hasn’t woken up and we’re not sure when he will, but his brain activities seem to be normal, so the doctors assume it’ll be soon. I think it’d be best that you flew out here as soon as possible. I have some more calls to make before you arrive, so if you have any more questions, you can contact Coulson.” Before the line clicks, he says, “I’ll see you in five hours.” Distantly, she thinks that of course he knows where her exact location is, even when she didn’t tell a soul about her plans. 

 

There’s complete and total silence and that’s when it starts to sink in. Here she was sure it’d processed, but hell no, it honestly, truly hadn’t until that moment. Steve’s _alive_ and he’ll wake up soon and what’ll await him is some brand new, alien future. How fucked up is that about to make him, huh? And…oh no, oh God, he’s about to think it’s still the forties and Buck’s been dead less than a week in his head. She’s had time to cope with the hell that went down back in the war, with the losses of those chunks of her soul, but sometimes it’s still hard to wake up and breathe, let alone move. How can Steve deal with that? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck her sideways. What’s she supposed to do here? She has no idea. She’s so lost. He’ll be even more lost. Oh fuck. 

 

“I have to leave.” Quinn breathes out while she stumbles over to clutch at the island, but she misjudges completely and grips it so tight that it cracks underneath her strength. Shit. “I’m sorry. I’m—” Holy fuck, she thinks she’s about to have a panic attack which she hasn’t had since…God knows when. She can’t do this. Steve will need all the support possible and she can’t do that if she breaks down now. But…but…“I have to—” her knees buckle and she drops. “I…” 

 

“Quinn,” Pepper’s on her knees in front of Quinn, puts her hands on Quinn’s shoulders, and that’s smart. She’s so smart. Touch has always been the very best way to pull Quinn back down to earth. “Quinn, take a breath. You need to calm down.” Quinn shakes her head. She has to leave now. She doesn’t have time. “You do have time.” Oh, she’d talked out loud. “You can take one of our private jets. You’ll be there quicker than a public airline. See? You do have time.” 

 

How can she do this? How the fuck is she supposed to do this? “You think too loud.” Pepper moves to the side a little to accommodate Tony who proceeds to drop down across from Quinn. “This’ll physically hurt me to say, but you should really turn off your brain.” In one of those rare shows of physical affection, he reaches out to take both her hands in his. “Listen to Pep and calm down—fuck. Yeah, I think that hurt more to say.” Pepper doesn't comment on that and Tony sighs. "Look, we were headed to New York to work on the new tower, anyway. We can come with you." 

 

"Absolutely," Pepper agrees and turns so that she's beside Quinn rather than in front of her. Pepper then leans her head onto Quinn’s shoulder and Tony squeezes her hands harder and this helps. God, it helps calm her down a little. She has a support system that can help her be a support system, too. 

 

Quinn can do this. 

 

\--- 

 

Nope, never mind, Quinn can’t do this. 

 

What the actual fuck is a person supposed to tell their soul mate when said soul mate wakes up after they've been stuck in some ice for almost seventy years, huh? This situation doesn’t happen to normal people—scratch that. This situation doesn’t happen to people period. What the fuck is she supposed to do here? Is she supposed to pretend that it’s still the forties and slowly but surely ease him into the future? Oh, and there’s the little detail that she physically looks seven years older than the last time he saw her—well, she could make it out to be that he’d be in the ice for a decade rather than seven. But Quinn doesn’t want to lie to him and even if she tried, he’d make her in a second. Steve was—is a smart fella like that. Lord, she freaks out anew every time she realizes that he's alive. 

 

Shit. Fuck. Jesus H Christ. Quinn’s positive that she’s about to upchuck all over the nice upholstery of this car, she’s so damn nervous from this. To think that there are people out there who think she’s a cool cucumber—ha, that’s funny. This is a terrible idea, to see him. She’s not the same person Steve knew. Maybe…maybe she should call Nick, tell him to tell Steve that she’s dead. Her heart beats, sure, but that nurse he loved back in the war, she’s dead. No. No, she can’t do that to Steve. Jesus, he needs someone to be there with him. Someone he knows a little is better than no one at all. Once he can stand back up on his own two feet and decides that he doesn’t want her there with him, then she’ll walk out that door. She’ll disappear into the woodworks and never ever come back, if that’s what he wants—and, she thinks darkly, that will be what he wants because she’s her and she’s never deserved the shit she’s had. 

 

It’s been sixty-six years since she last swore it, but it’s not any less true than it was back then—she’ll be there for Steve until the end of the line. 

 

Quinn tries not to visibly squirm or break down into tears in front of the men who picked her up while the car pulls over onto the curb, close to Times Square where SHIELD’s New York base resides. Tony, beside her, elbows her in the side so she'll get with the picture, but then she realizes something. Jitters morph into confusion then suspicion when she realizes that the car’s been parked too far from the front doors for her to be dropped off, like these men were ordered to do. The fact that they’ve stopped before they reached the building itself tells her that there’s some kind of problem they don’t want her to know about. As a super soldier—a half-assed one, but one nonetheless—and one of the founders, she’s one of the first to be called if there’s some kind of problem, so she doesn’t think that they’re worried her safety may be in jeopardy. SHIELD calls her to run headfirst into the problem, so…it has to be… 

 

It’s Steve. There’s a problem with Steve. There has to be. It’s the only reason someone would order the car with her in it to stop. 

 

Quinn turns her head to look at Tony with wide eyes and his brows furrow. "What's up?" 

 

Then, one of the agents turns around in his seat to face her, to throw her some bullshit line, but she’s not about to sit back and take this crap. “Doctor Hayden—” he starts, but she’s already opened up the door by the time he’s done with Doctor, and she hears Tony shout, "Quinn, what the hell?" but she can't mind him now. She starts to sprint toward SHIELD’s doors. Really, she doesn’t even have to do this. What’re they about to do, huh? It’s not like they can stop her. It’ll take a lot more than two men to hold her down. 

 

The closer she is to the base, she starts to hear multiple cars honk, tires screech to a stop, and runs toward that instead of the entrance to SHIELD. Whatever problem there is, it’s moved into the streets. Sleek black cars that she’s smart enough to know belong to SHIELD form a perimeter around something. It puts her on alert, makes her move faster, because it all spells trouble and— 

 

Oh. 

 

_Oh_. 

 

Quinn stops dead between two SHIELD cars, looks past the armed agents, past Nick, and… 

 

“Steve,” she breathes out. 

 

God… 

 

God. 

 

He’s as beautiful as ever, to the point that it physically hurts. Over the years, all she’s had to remember him by are faded memories and old black and white pictures passed down from their time. Time’s a bitch because it’s faded her memories, and it never hit her how much they'd faded until now. Jesus…she wonders if this was how it’d been when his vision was fixed up new on account of the serum and he stepped out of that chamber, not colorblind no more and able to see the world as it was. Color suddenly bleeds into her memories and she remembers how much color there is to him. Golden hair, that pale Irish skin, that sweet pink mouth, and those crystal clear blue, blue eyes… 

 

Fear punches her in the stomach and she’s scared—so, so scared that he’ll disappear on her. She couldn’t stand to lose him a second time. It this is a dream, she hopes she’ll never wake up and face the real world where she’s alone. She starts to take cautious little steps toward him, scared that she’ll spook this brilliant vision and make him leave her on her own, and she can’t have that. Honest, she’s not even sure how she can walk, what with how weak in the knees she is. 

 

He’s spotted her now, over Nick’s shoulder, and stares at her with the same dumb look that’s no doubt on her face too. His mouth’s fallen open a little, like he wants to talk, but then he closes it. He turns into a mirror, moves the same time that she does, and starts to walk past Nick, to her. With how pale in the face he is, she thinks that maybe he’s as scared as she is, that she’ll leave him if he makes a bad move—as if she would, as if she could. The world’s went and slowed down around her, to a crawl, except her heart—it beats so fast, thumps and thumps inside her chest, faster and faster, and it feels like it’s about to explode. 

 

Steve stops, so she stops too. The two of them, they’re so close to each other now. Fuck, she didn’t remember until now how…tall he is, how broad, how much he blocks out the whole world around her. It never scared her then because he was her world—him and Bucky. They were her all back in the war, her sun and her moon, all she needed to live and breathe. It doesn’t scare her now, either, but it does make her wonder how the hell she was able to survive at all without them. She didn’t, she couldn’t have. It’s a dream, it has to be. It’s not real. It can’t be. There’s no possible way that he could ever come back home to her— 

 

“Quinn?” he whispers and it’s so quiet, like it’s their own personal secret how scared he sounds. It’s a dream, she knows that now. She’ll wake up any minute now, same as always. God hates her. He’d never let her have Steve back. “Quinn,” he repeats and she closes her eyes, takes in his voice one last time before she wakes up. His voice, his deep, smooth voice…it’s better than any music that she’s ever heard or ever will hear in the future. 

 

Tentative, slow, he reaches up and the tips of his fingers brush over the freckles that dust her cheeks, and she opens her eyes, startled. Each and every time she’s dreamed them up, they’re always out of reach. Physical touch, it’s always been what tethers her to what’s real and solid. This…it’s not a dream. It’s real. This is real. He cups her cheek in his hand and she breaks because he’s warm and he’s solid and real and he’s here. 

 

“Steve,” she chokes out and reaches up to take his cheeks in her own hands. “Steve.” It took her a solid decade before she could even utter his name out loud and not have her heart break and now it’s about all she can think or say. “Steve.” While she sucks in a shaky breath and tries to hold back her tears—it doesn’t work, it doesn’t, they roll down her cheeks—she thinks she should say more than just his name because he still hasn’t moved. He’s been asleep for over sixty years. Maybe he thinks she’s a dream, too. “You’re…late. We had a date and you’re late, asshole. I should sock one to you, you know that?” It’s not mean, she can’t be mean, because she’s happy that he showed up at all. He’s so late, the asshole, but he’s here now. “I can’t believe it. Oh sweetheart, you’re here.” 

 

The rant cinches it for him that she’s real. What's that say about her big mouth? “Yes,” he breathes out. “Yes. Yeah, I’m here. I’m sorry.” Quickly, his arms move around her waist, and he crushes her to his chest with so much force that it borders on painful, and it’s like he’s desperate to have her closer to him than she already is. They’re like magnets. It’s nature, how they have to be as close as possible. “I’m so, so sorry, Quinn,” he murmurs wetly while he buries his face into her hair. 

 

Quinn moves her arms up and moves one hand around to thread in his hair while the other moves to rest in the crook of his neck. She pulls him down a little so their foreheads touch then turns her head to the side so she bury her face into his shoulder. She cries some more, but she also breathes him in, and it’s so familiar that her body aches in remembrance. She wants to kiss him. She wants to strip him down and map out every inch of skin she hasn’t seen in decades. She wants to sink her love into every pore of his body, down into his bones, and reclaim what’s hers and has been since the dawn of time. She wants so much, craves more desperately than she’s ever had since the war. 

 

Then, there’s another honk of a car, probably some impatient asshole, and, yeah, it’s not him and her alone in some private place. They’re in the middle of Times Square which is as public as public can be. To any normal person, she and he are some couple surrounded by heavily armed men, which looks like some modern version of Bonnie and Clyde. People from SHIELD can see her, see her in tears, and she can’t have that. It makes her uneasy and uncomfortable. She and Steve need to be alone, away from the too-watchful eyes of the world. 

 

“I—” She leans back and looks up at him, blinks, tries to pull out of her daze. “We need to be somewhere private, yeah? There’s…a whole lot we have to talk about, don’t we?” She sniffles, wipes at her eyes furiously, and steps out of Steve’s embrace which…really hurts. It physically hurts to move away from him after this whole time, and he doesn’t like it either with the way he clings for a second. But she does take his hand, holds on with all she has, while she turns around, steels her expression, and stares Nick down. 

 

Nick—who’s one of the smartest people there is, don’t let no one say otherwise—raises a brow at her, looks real amused which is probably because he knows her and what she plans to do. “You do know he’ll need to be debriefed, don’t you?” Yeah, of course she knows. There's actually a hell of a lot that’ll need to be done, but she’s selfish. It’s her Achilles heel, how selfish she is, and she wants Steve first. No one else can have him, not yet. So, all she does in response to that is square her chin and hold out her hand. Like she’s said, Nick’s smart, so he hands her his car keys and informs her that, “There’s a packet in the console. It’ll come in handy.” 

 

Quinn stares at him, earnest as humanly possible, and whispers, “Thank you, Nick.”  

 

When she escorts Steve over to the car, she spots Tony at the front of the crowd that's started to form, and he raises a brow. In her pocket, her phone vibrates, and when she checks it when she's behind the wheel, all it says is: _use protection_. What an asshole. 

 

\--- 

 

As she pulls up to the curb where her apartment is, Quinn looks over at Steve and he has his head tilted to the side and pressed to the window. His brows are furrowed and it throws her off balance to think that it's the same face he used to wear when he was stuck inside his head. "We're…" He leans up and turns to stare at her. "This is Brooklyn, isn't it?" Then, his eyes move back around, probably at the scenery outside. "It's different, but I can…some of it's the same—" he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and whispers more to himself than her, "You came home, Quinn. You came here, to Brooklyn." 

 

Quinn leans her head back on the headrest and smiles a little. “Yeah, well, you never shut the fuck up about it, so I had to see what all the fuss was about, y’know?” He looks sadder than she wants him to be, so she tries to cheer him up with, “It’s decent, I suppose.” 

 

“Decent,” he repeats, offended. 

 

“Yeah, decent,” she repeats but it comes out quiet and fond. “C’mon, let’s head inside to my decent place.” 

 

Quinn leads him up the stairs, inside her brownstone, and locks up behind her. It takes a minute or two before she can move because she's…nervous and she's not sure what to do here. This is the most confused and lost that she's ever been since…well, since Steve presumably died. 

 

When she turns around, he’s taken one of her frames off the wall, and stares at it with wide eyes. She walks up to stand next to him, looks at what he has, and it’s her diploma. “You’re…” He blinks at her, shocked, but then he smiles and there are honest to God tears in his eyes. “You became a doctor?” 

 

She can’t help it, she ducks her head and blushes under his attention. “Yeah, I did.” She rubs her arm, a little bashful and she doesn’t know what for. “I don’t work at a hospital all the time no more—couldn’t stand the politics and shit. Now, I, uh, work under Doctors Without Borders? It helps out countries who…don’t have the best healthcare and it—it's complicated, I won't explain it.” She waves toward the open area of her house and admits, “I’m not here much anymore. Either I’m overseas or I move place to place here in the States. I can’t…keep in one place—haven’t been able to since…” 

 

Steve puts her diploma back on the wall, cautious not to break it or mess up how it was before. “This says…” He taps the date, takes a deep breath, and recites back to her, “‘Fifty-four.” There’s a damn herd of elephants in the room that need to be addressed, but she thinks this is the smallest one to start with—funny, since it isn't actually small at all. “You…you’re here and you’re not…” He won’t look at her, but she knows what he means and she knows what he wants to ask. “ _How_?” 

 

“Y’know, my ma, she was in tears when I showed that to her. You know how mommas are when their babies hit some milestone or whatever—they reminisce. She told me that I didn’t look no older than when I’d shipped out. I was scared as shit when I looked real hard at the mirror later on because I really, really didn’t look older.” She pauses. “No one wanted to talk about it and I didn’t push it. Then, when I’m supposed to be forty and don’t look no older than twenty-five, I know I can’t pretend no more.” 

 

Because she’s restless as hell when she’s nervous, she starts in toward the couch, she won’t sit down but it helps her to move. “We never understood the science back then, but we weren’t stupid and we knew it was those experiments Zola did on me—the…knockoff brand of your serum,” she explains. “I’m told now that…it’s that I heal a little too well. My cells heal themselves so it’s pretty much slowed down the aging process to a crawl. It’s not exact, but we reasoned that for every decade, I’m physically a year older, so I should be about thirty here in the flesh.” She lets out the breath she didn’t know she’d sucked in and drops her hands to her side.  

 

Steve moves past her, doesn’t speak a word out loud, blinks and blinks but doesn’t have much of an expression, and then he plops down on the couch. “So—” he stops and blinks some more. Gears turn in his head, she can practically see them spin, and his eyes widen as it slowly starts to dawn on him. “You’ve been alive this whole time?” he asks, devastated. 

 

Quinn tucks some hair behind her ear. “There are people as old as me, y’know. People can live for—” she stops, tries to brush it off with, “ Look, I’m used to it, okay?” 

 

“Used to it? Quinn—” he scrubs a hand across his face and shakes his head, like he can't believe she said that. “You don’t just get used to that. Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He’s furious and upset and she can’t help but feel like a damn monster because of it. She doesn't want it to start this way between them for God’s sake. “This is different. It’s so fuckin’ different. You’ve spent the last—Jesus Christ, it’s…its 2011, yeah? That's what…Director Fury—that was his name? That's what he said what year it is.” She nods. Quickly, he does the math, then says, “You’ve been alive sixty-six years since I went down and you’re no older than you were then while everyone else is—they’ve—” 

 

“Steve,” she breathes out and inches toward him. He hunches over and covers his face with his hands so he doesn't have to look at her. “I've…had—I made peace with it. Not so much peace, but I can't stop it and I know that I can't and I've learned to live with this.” 

 

“I'm sorry.” He reaches out when she's in front of him and pulls her close so he can press his face into her stomach. “I'm sorry. This is because of me. If I'd never said yes to Doctor Erskine—you wouldn't have ever been experimented on and you'd have…you'd…” His shoulders start to shake and she's lost, she's so lost about what to do, so she throws her arms around his neck and holds him close while he cries. “I'm sorry you've had to settle with me as a soul mate. Goddamn it, Quinn, I'm so sorry.” 

 

Oh Christ. “Now you listen here, Steven Grant Rogers,” she snaps and shoves at his shoulders so he has no choice but to lean back and look at her when she says, “I've lived me a life, don’t think otherwise. Sure, it's been hell to be alone, but I had—have family and friends. It would've been a lot better with my soul mates, that’s for sure, but I…I remembered what you said your momma told you, that—to stand back up when you're knocked down and that's what I've done.” She cups his cheeks in her hands and rubs her thumb across his wet cheeks. “To have had the chance to know you, to love you, it’s been worth it. I could spend a thousand years alone and wouldn’t want it no different. I love you so, so much, Steve.” 

 

“How can you?” his hands curl around her wrists, like he's about to push her away from him, but he holds on instead—so hard that it hurts, but she can take it. “Bucky loved me too,” he whispers and she can’t help but wince—it’s a mistake because he zeroes in on it and all but sobs out, “And look where he ended up. I killed him and I took away your future. Got one soul mate six feet under and the other spent years and years on her own and it was all ‘cause they stuck with me. I’m not—I’m—” 

 

“Oh, Steve.” Her voice cracks and she drops down next to him on the couch. “Oh honey, no. No. It’s not like that at all.” She tries to pull him toward her and he doesn’t want to move, but she whispers, “C’mere,” and he does. He sprawls out on top of her and she stretches out underneath him, moves him around so his face is pressed over where her heart is. “Me ‘n Bucky never, not once, ever believed we made a mistake when it came to you. Bucky…” She blinks and her eyes are wet again. “Bucky left this world lovin’ you and I’ve never stopped lovin’ you either. You’re worth it. You have to believe me on this, okay? Please?” He shakes and shakes in her arms and she holds onto him with all she has. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay, I swear. We’ll make it. I’m here and you’re here and we have each other.” 

 

\--- 

 

Hours and hours later, when the sun’s about to set and he’s been silent a little while, Steve suddenly chuckles and she moves her head to look down at his head pillowed between her tits, raise a brow at him. "What's so funny, huh?" 

 

"I'm an idiot, is all," he replies with a huff. "I didn't even think to ask you if you were married or if you have someone that you're goin' steady with." 

 

_Goin' steady_ —Jesus, that's adorable. "No, I'm a free woman, Steve," she informs him and before he can open his mouth to complain, she adds, "Just so you know, yes, I _have_ been with other people. Never been married, but I…yeah. I don't do it so much anymore. It's…hard to ask someone to be with me when they'll wither away and I'll stay like this for…hundreds of years." 

 

Steve thinks on that, drops his head back down. After a few more minutes of quiet, he finally breathes out, “Talk to me.” 

 

“About?” 

 

“Everything.” 

 

So, that’s what she does. 


	11. 2011 - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an emotional start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there's a week between when Steve wakes up and the start of the Avengers, so have some Quinn/Steve being domestic and getting used to having each other back! Honestly, this is just a shameless excuse to add fluff into this super angsty story. And don't you worry! There will be porn...eventually. >:]  
> As always, I love everyone that's supported me! And to everyone that reads this story! And honestly if you're reading this, I just really fucking love you.

At some point or another, in the middle of the breakdown about the most important events that Steve's missed since he went down in the ice—a conversation that lasted to maybe dawn, she thinks—Quinn must've dozed off because when she wakes up, it's in her bed and they hadn't ever taken the time to move away from the couch. There's also a hand that pushes stray strands of hair away from her face, touches that brush over her cheeks then move down to her shoulder, and it takes a lot not to tense up as soon as she's aware of it, before she remembers who it comes from. Obviously, she's not used to someone in her actual bed—not for a decade or two, anyway. She's only ever in someone else's bed since then and she's never been sure why she does it that way now, but that's how it is.  

 

It also takes a whole lot not to suck in a sharp breath when she opens her eyes and sees that it's Steve's face mere inches from her own, but she can't stop that, same as how she can't stop how her heartbeat picks up the pace. Steve shoots her a sheepish smile and moves his hand away while he murmurs, “Sorry.” As if he actually needs to defend his actions to her. “I shouldn't touch you, I know. Just…I couldn't help myself.” 

 

“’S okay,” she replies quietly. “More than okay, actually,” she adds with a soft smile. “Tell you what, you can touch me if I can touch you. Can I?” He nods very enthusiastically and she huffs in amusement at the response, but her smile fades as she raises her hand up to touch his face. The tips of her fingers dance across that extremely strong jawline that made her swoon more than once back in the day, those cheekbones, that little freckle that's on the left side of his chin, and for fun, she touches the bridge of his nose that's a little crooked from where someone broke it in some scrap in a back alley of Brooklyn.  

 

Quinn doesn't even realize that she's started to cry until Steve expression morphs into one of panic and he touches her face to wipe away the tears with his thumb. “No, no, no. Don't cry. Quinn, what is it? Do you need me to leave? I'm sorry. I knew that I should've slept on the couch after you fell asleep—” 

 

“It ain't that, you mook.” The smile he shoots her is strained and she wipes at her eyes herself. “I've had so many dreams like this, is all. I…I'm happy I woke up to you. I—well, I told you, didn't I? Got lonely for me sometimes and I'm—” she should have more control, but she…okay, she doesn't have an excuse, but that doesn't stop her when she pretty much throws herself at him and he wraps her up in his arms. “I really fuckin’ missed you, Steve. That's all,” she chokes out and tucks her head under his chin. The position they're in…it feels so familiar, so—oh, God, but she has, she's missed him so much.  

 

"I know. I'm sorry,” he says pathetically and she doesn't even need to see to know he has that kicked puppy look on his face. 

 

Quinn, who's heard many a sorry since she started to explain the decades to him and how much he missed out on with her, pinches his side and he yelps. “I said to quit that,” she hisses and does it a second time to make sure the point hits home which makes him try to squirm away from her. “You said sorry plenty of times and there's no reason you need to be, okay?” 

 

“I don't think I'll ever be used to this,” he grouses as he rubs at the place she pinched him and pouts. “It used to be that you'd try that and it wouldn't even hurt one bit. It was cute, how you tried and tried. But _now_? Now, you— _ow_!” She does it one more time in the middle of his rant and smiles at him, smug as a bug in a rug. “Jesus, you're a menace, woman.” 

 

She can't help the laughter that bubbles up and out of her chest. “Why yes, yes I am.” 

 

“Wow. Take that to the bank,” he breathes out, eyes wide in astonishment and awe, and she has no idea what has him like that until he leans in close to touch his forehead to hers and adds, “The way you laugh, the way you smile—it's so beautiful. It's only been a few days for me, but…it feels like it's been forever since I saw you. I know it's been forever for you, but--I'm one lucky fella. You're so damn beautiful, Quinn.” 

 

The last time that someone said that to her who didn't want in her pants, that had actually meant it had been…probably Pegs. “Oh. Uh.” Her cheeks start to heat up and she averts her eyes. Look at her, the cool, calm Quinn Hayden taken down by some compliments from her old sweetheart. “When'd you have time to learn how to be so smooth, huh?” 

 

“You're humble as ever, aren't you?” He chuckles but it dies away pretty quickly. “Did you ever—” he squirms around a little and she lets him lean away some but she hates the distance between them. “I shouldn't do this, should I?” Her brows furrow in confusion. Steve's the one who won't look her in the eyes now and he starts to curl in on himself and there's an invisible wall between them now, it seems. “You've moved on, haven't you?” 

 

"I'm…not actually sure?” As she heaves a sigh, Quinn leans up in bed, stretches a bit, and then explains, “I…I was with someone else. I mean, I've been with people, but I only ever loved one other person since the war. Christ, this is really awkward and weird.” She runs her hands through her hair. “Okay, I'll admit it now. I should. It's only fair that I do, ain't it?” Her questions are more to herself, of course. Steve waits and waits and waits some more for her to continue on. “I fell in love with Peggy,” she suddenly blurts before she thinks too much more about it and chickens out.  

 

Steve blinks in shock and leans up in bed so they're face-to-face again. “You…what?” It takes a second for the information to process. “Wow. You did?” 

 

“Peggy—” Jesus, she didn't even know how sore a spot this had become until she had to admit it out loud to someone else. “A few months after you went down, I—God, Steve, she was the person who'd been there for me, who really _understood_ what I lost. I slept with her and we…were on and off for a year or two before I—there was some fight between us, but anyway, yeah.” She’s nervous as hell, so of course she can't stop her mouth that runs on and on now. “Then, in ‘sixty-eight, I found out that the reason for her divorce was—okay, she'll say it was in the works way before then, but I almost got socked in the jaw by her husband ‘cause he was sure me ‘n Peggy was having an affair. We…admitted it to each other. I think that I…I had been in love with her for about as long as she was with me. We were with each other for two years. Steve, it was…amazing. It was the best.” 

 

“Oh, Quinn,” he whispers and reaches out to take her hands in his. She didn't know what she expected, maybe that he'd be mad that she slept with Pegs so soon after his supposed death or that she loved someone since him, but she knows she definitely doesn't expect his, “I'm happy for you. You have no idea how…how _relieved_ that makes me feel, that you found someone to be with.” He squeezes her hands. “And if there's anyone I could trust with my best girl, it's definitely Peggy.” 

 

Quinn blinks and blinks and it's too late, the dam’s been broken, and she starts to cry a second time in the span of maybe less than thirty minutes. “I loved her so much, Steve,” she admits and he reaches out to pull her back into his arms. She buries her face into his shoulder and sobs. “ _So goddamned much_ ,” she stresses. “But it was too late by then. We were happy, but she was only gettin’ older while I stayed the same. I would've loved her anyway—I swear that I would've, you _know_ that I would've—but she didn't wanna make me watch her fade so she…she—and I—” 

 

Steve holds Quinn while she releases the pressure that's built up inside her for decades since Peggy made Quinn walk away. It doesn't seem fair, for her to pin this on Steve, but she has a bad habit of doing that—putting her hurt from the loss of one lover onto a new one. She did that with Peggy. Maybe that's where it all went wrong, now that she thinks about it. If she'd waited for the hurt from Steve and Bucky to ease, then—no, she can't think about that. It'd only make her hurt even worse.  

 

“I swear I don't mean to keep breaking out the waterworks on you,” she mumbles when she's done and cried out, and then turns her head to the side to take a breath of fresh air.  

 

He rubs her back. “It's okay. I don't think I'd do much better in your situation myself. Plus, I know you and you probably haven't told a soul about this, have you?” She makes a point not to move or answer him, but he knows it all the same. “Well, at least some things haven't changed about you, even if it's something that I wish would've.” 

 

"I never ever put you away,” she speaks up rather than take the bait and dwell on that conversation. He makes an inquisitive noise in the back of his throat im response. “You wanted to know if I moved on and…the truth is that I accepted it but if you want to know if I'd want you back, then—" she moves her head away from his shoulder and looks him dead in the eyes as she says, "I always have and always will love you.” Then, she reaches out to cup his cheeks in her hands and he closes his eyes at her touch. “I love you like a mountain,” she tries to explain it with. “It's been there since the dawn of time and it'll be there forever and a day. It's in your face, too. And no one could ever knock it down, no matter how hard they tried, not a soul, not even God Himself could do it now.” 

 

Steve takes a breath and reaches up to wrap his hands around her wrists. His eyes don't open, but a few tears leak from them and roll down his cheeks. "That's some deep, deep love,” he manages and she's pretty sure she went too far. “Do I really mean that much to you?" He asks it like he can't believe it and she'll never understand why he thinks so little of himself. When he opens his eyes back up, she nods in confirmation, and his whole face softens. "You know it's the same here, don't you? Goddamn, I wish you knew how much I love you. It's—you know—” It's a little funny to her, that the man can come up with the most patriotic speeches off the top of his head, but when it comes to his own emotions, he's thrown for a loop. “Fuck it,” he gives up on words and moves a hand around to the back of her neck so he can pull her forward and press his lips to hers. 

 

Oh. Oh _wow_. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. Quinn had completely forgotten what it was like to be kissed by Steve and she's not exactly sure how. How could anyone ever forget this? It sort of overwhelms her, to be surrounded by him again. It's so much like the sun and his warmth and love moves from her lips all the way down to her toes that curl. She moves closer or maybe he tries to pull her closer, but whoever does it, Steve ends up on his back with her above him. She straddles his waist and doesn't move her hands from his cheeks—holds his face between her hands like he's the most precious thing in the world because he _is_. 

 

"Holy _shit_ ," she gets out between gasps after Steve moves away so the two of them can actually breathe air and not each other. It feels like she's run a super soldier marathon, what with how fast her heart kicks around inside her chest. 

 

"Yeah," Steve agrees and he's as breathless as she is. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip and then suggests, "We should do that again." 

 

Quinn nods eagerly. "Absolutely. A hundred percent."  

 

But before they can even press their lips together again, Steve's stomach decides to interrupt their about-to-be make out session. Steve winces and looks real uncomfortable—which is probably from the hunger—and then moans in frustration. "Leave it to my stomach to ruin the moment." 

 

"Well, I don't think you've eaten since the forties," she mumbles against his mouth when she leans down to softly press their lips together. He snorts and she chuckles. "C'mon, sweetheart, food now. We can neck later. I don't think I've ate for a day or two myself." 

 

\--- 

 

Steve's extremely uncomfortable to be outside in the new, odd, and real unfamiliar future, which she understands, she does, but Quinn didn't have any food in her brownstone. She'd planned to visit the store when she made it back to New York, after she visited Tony, but…it didn't work out that way for obvious reasons. 

 

Quinn tries to start small and whisks him away to a small diner near her place where she's known the family that runs it since the day it opened back in the fifties. They don't treat her some kind of celebrity like the rest of the nation does nowadays and they're more than happy to leave her be and kick out anyone that tries to make Quinn's life difficult. Even with that extra security, she makes sure to put herself and Steve in furthest booth in the corner. 

 

"Quinn," Steve hisses while she tries to decide what she wants to eat. " _Quinn_ ," he repeats more desperately. When she raises her eyes over the top of the menu to look at him, he waves the menu around. "Didn't you say this place was a hole in the wall? Why are these prices—we _can't eat here_. Do you see how expensive this place is?" 

 

Quinn moves her menu back up to cover her face so he can't see her laugh, but he can sure as shit hear her. "I forgot to tell you about inflation," she wheezes and drops the menu to hold her sides because they're starting to hurt. "I'm sorry. No, don't be mad. I know I shouldn't laugh. I just—" she shrugs. "Guess the prices have slowly crawled up and up so much over the years that I don't even really pay much attention to it no more. Just, trust me on this one, these are normal now, okay?" 

 

Steve turns white as a sheet. " _Normal_ ," he repeats in a strangled tone. 

 

"I promise that you'll get used to it." He doesn't seem all that convinced so she tacks on a hesitant, "Eventually?” 

 

\--- 

 

After their shaky breakfast, on the way back to her brownstone, Quinn and Steve happen to cross paths with two fellas that walk hand-in-hand with each other. They're a couple of kids, probably fresh in their relationship because they can't keep their hands off one another and, in the middle of the sidewalk, as Quinn and Steve walk past them, one of them plants a smooch on the other with no shame whatsoever. 

 

It's cute as hell, but Steve stops dead in his tracks next to her, and whips his head around over his shoulder to watch the two men with wide eyes. Quinn knows he don't have no kind of problem, but they don't know that, so she elbows him in the side. "Hey now, mind your manners. It ain't polite to stare." Damn, she doesn't realize how much there is in the world that she's become so used to until Steve makes her stop to think about it. 

 

"But—" he blinks and then moves his head back around, eyes dropping to the ground. 

 

"It ain't easy these days, trust me on that," she starts gently. "But it's a lot better than it was back in our day, that's for damn sure. No one can throw people in the slammer if they catch 'em kissing. Why, in some states, a man can marry another man or a lady could marry another lady."  

 

Steve smiles at her and reaches down to take her hand, tears in his eyes. "I think that may be the most amazing thing you've told me so far and that's even counting the fact everyone carries a telephone around in their pocket now." 

 

"There's so much more _information_ these days, y'know? They have names and…there's so much more tolerance, too. Me 'n you, we're bisexual and that means we're attracted to both ladies and fellas. And…and they even—did you know there's a name for what we had back in the war? It's called polyamory. It means _many loves_." 

 

He mouths both the words, tries them out himself, and then he laughs wetly. "I was scared to death when they told me the serum would fix everything about me 'cause they used to say it was wrong, remember? They said it was a _disease_. I was scared I wouldn't love…that they'd take half my love away from me. Then, when I had you and—when I had _two_ loves, I was so sure that I was fucked up somehow, even with the serum.” 

 

"There are some of those assholes out there who would try to tell you otherwise, but I had the same reaction myself when I found out. What we had, what we are—we're normal. Our love, our hearts, those ain't fucked up. We aren't exactly the most normal people out there, but you know what I mean. God, there are so many people that're the same as us. And marks, Steve, the _marks_ , oh Lord, you have no idea. People have a choice now. There are more and more people who come out with more than one mark, a lot more that don't have any period, and there's no shame in that anymore. There's even this movement where people actually make their own marks with tattoos." 

 

"I don't think we should be in public for this conversation. I don't wanna embarrass myself even more," he explains while he wipes at his eyes but those are happy tears, she knows. 

 

It used to be that every time some kind of advancement in the world happened, Quinn would always think to herself about how much Steve or Bucky would've loved it, how she wished they were there to experience, and now…now she has Steve. It's not exactly the same since he wasn't there to see it happen with her, but she has him now and she can watch him be amazed. 

' 

When they make it back home, both Steve and Quinn break down into tears, and it's because Steve's happy about how far the world's come and Quinn's happy because of how she has Steve to share the world with now. 

 

\--- 

 

Later, in the middle of the SHIELD-official breakdown of important events that Nick left behind in the car for her to read over with Steve—in which Quinn also sometimes adds her own input to because she can't help it—she has a sudden realization and it'll break Steve's heart, she knows it, but she has to let him in on the news. Better to rip the band-aid off now than have him find out on his own and have no idea how to handle it. 

 

"Oh. Shit." She winces. "I didn't tell you the worst news of all." Understandably, he's sort of panicked, so she makes sure to keep a hand on his back, rub it soothingly, and breaks it to him that, "There's no more Brooklyn Dodgers." 

 

" _What_?" Steve shouts, in complete and total despair. 

 

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She leans over and kisses his forehead. He reaches out and wraps her up in his arms. "Look, if it makes you feel better, they' didn't disband the team or nothin'. All they did was up and move out to California." 

 

That apparently didn't make him feel any better. "I think I may pass out." 

 

\--- 

 

It doesn't come as much of a surprise when Steve takes to the computer as well as a fish takes to water because he's an extremely smart fella, always has been, her boy. So, he sort of steals the laptop from her so he can hop from Wikipedia article to Wikipedia article, and she runs to the store to buy some food and make dinner. She doesn't want to make Steve have another panic attack because of the prices—she'll have to ease him into that somehow. 

 

Once she's back home, in the kitchen, wrestling up some supper for them both, Tony calls her. She's honestly surprised that he's lasted as long as he had without any kind of contact and she tells him as much. "Pepper wouldn't let me have my phone," Tony immediately explains after she points it out and that definitely makes a lot more sense. "So, how are you?" He starts conversationally. She waits, because she knows the smart ass remark is on the way, and sure enough, “Is your knight in shining armor everything you've hoped for? Have all your fairytale dreams come true? How was true love’s first—hey, don't look at me like that, Pep," he throws at Pepper in the background.  

 

Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose. “Thanks for the support. Really, I appreciate it.” She leans back against a counter. “It's…somethin’ else, that's for sure." Then, because it's Tony and she trusts him with…pretty much whatever, she admits, "Y’know, I actually don't think I'm out of shock yet. I'm scared as hell, too. I'm afraid that the other shoe’s about to drop soon ‘cause this is me and…it's like the universe itself doesn't want me to be happy.” 

 

“You…uh—” he stops, reevaluates, and quietly assures her, “Don't be so hard on yourself. Trust me, if there's anyone who deserves some happiness in the world, it's you. You're like…a Saint or something. Are you Catholic? I can contact the Pope, I'm sure, and we can have you made a Saint.” 

 

“I think you have to be dead to be made into a Saint and, kiddo, let me tell you that they wouldn't make me a Saint. No way. I love my sinning way too damn much.” 

 

Tony barks out a laugh. “ _Sinning_? God, I hope you're not serious. What's the worst you've done? No. You know what? Don't answer that. You owe me payback for the times I've mentally scarred you and I'm afraid to think of what you could come up with.” He clears his throat. “Okay. That's it. I had to check in on you. The tower isn't exactly complete, but there are some residential floors that you're more than welcome to come crash in when the honeymoon phase is over.” 

 

"Is that _care_ I hear in your voice?” 

 

“ _No_ ,” he retorts petulantly and then the other end of the line clicks because Tony always has to have the last word.  

 

Quinn shakes her head and dumps her phone on the counter where she thinks she'll leave it for the next week or months or maybe years. SHIELD has been on her ass, same as Nat and Clint who want to know if the rumors are true, and she's sick of so damn much human contact. Fuck, when did she turn into such a hermit? 

 

She spins around on her heel and stops when she sees Steve in the doorway. “Howdy,” she greets softly. There's this curious expression on his face. “What's up with that look, huh?” 

 

“Nothing,” he lies while he ducks his head and smiles down at his toes. “Guess it finally got through my thick skull that there's more than soulmates in the world and it sounds like you have some family that cares about you. It's nice to hear.” He nods toward her phone. “Who was it?” 

 

“Tony Stark,” she answers and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Yeah, he's Howard's boy. Howard actually settled down and popped out a kid. I _know_. I had that same look on my face when I heard,” she points out when he stares at her in shock. “I think me ‘n Tony bonded so much over our mutual hate for the man.” 

 

Steve frowns. “I didn't think you felt that…strongly about him? If you hated him so much then how did you end up so close with—” 

 

“You have to understand that Howard was a shitty father, okay? He was selfish and stuck up his own ass when you knew him and a wife and kid didn't fix that in him. I hated—other than the fact that he was a stuck-up prick who screwed me and everyone else over and over? He…acted like you were his creation and I hated that. He never ever took a second to think that the serum didn't make you so goddamn good, you were already like that. The serum made the outside match the inside.” She stares out the window. “He treated people like machines, especially Tony. One of the happiest moments of Tony's life was when he watched a movie of Howard telling Tony that he was Howard's greatest creation and I didn't have the heart to tell Tony that love don't work like that.” 

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Steve walk over to the table and take a seat. “That's fucked up,” he decides to say.  

 

“I know, but it is what it is. I can only show him how much I love him and hope it'll sink in some day, y’know?” And her heart only breaks a little for Tony. “As for how I ended up so close to the kid…jeez, I don't know. One day, I need to meet with Howard and I meet Tony and before I know it, I love him. It sort of happened and I couldn't explain how for the life of me.” 

 

Steve suddenly stands up and she watches him move over in front of her and wrap his arms around her waist. “I wish I knew how you have so much room in you to love,” he whispers into her hair and then places a kiss on the top of her head. 

 

Quinn lets him hold her until the food starts to burn. 

 

\--- 

 

When the sheets are torn away from the mattress, Quinn makes a sleepy protest. It doesn't quite click in her sleepy brain that there's some kind of a problem until the body next to hers scrambles out of the bed. Blearily, she blinks at the alarm clock next to her bed, and it's only around two in the morning. The shower turns on in the bathroom and finally, _finally_ , the alarms blare inside her brain and then she's as hasty to roll out of bed as Steve had been. 

 

"Steve," she calls loudly so he can hear her over the spray of the shower but there's no response. "Steve," she tries one more time and when he doesn't answer her, she pushes the shower curtain out of the way and her heart nearly shreds itself to pieces inside her chest. Steve's seated in the bottom of the stall, curled in on himself, eyes on the wall but not really there. He's far, far away, stuck inside his head. " _Steve_ ," she whispers desperately and tries to climb in beside him but hisses at the heat. Even with her raised body temperature, the water's hot as hell. "Jesus," she murmurs and turns the shower off. 

 

"I'm sorry," he blurts with wide eyes but she's not sure that he's completely with her. She reaches down to touch his cheek, to try and ground him, and he blinks at the touch but doesn't exactly shy away from it. "I was cold. It was…so fucking cold." 

 

Why hadn't it dawned on her sooner that this could happen to Steve? Someone crashes a plane into some ice and drowns or freezes to near-death…when they come back from that, they're bound to have some issues. Sometimes, when she wanted to be extra cruel to herself, after she'd just lost them, she would think about how much Steve suffered before he _died_ —how much the initial crash would've hurt him, how his lungs must've burned when the plane started to sink under water, how much the cold would've hurt before he went numb to it… 

 

"Steve—oh, sweetheart," she chokes out past her horror. "C'mere you," she orders softly and reaches out to help him stumble to his feet. "Get out of your clothes, okay? Get back under those covers and I'll find some more blankets and I burn real hot now, so that'll help, won't it? Can you…" She chews on her bottom lip. "Hold on for me in here where it's still hot. Don't leave in here without me." Then, she darts out of the bathroom to search for blankets. 

 

Once Quinn has a mountain of blankets in her arms and has thrown them onto the bed, she strips down to the bare essentials, a sports bra and panties—because if she's naked, he may take it as…like she wants sex from him and she doesn't want him to feel that way—because it's bound to be hot and she'll sweat. She makes Steve strip down to his boxers in the bathroom and then ushers him back into the warm bed. 

 

Steve immediately plasters himself to Quinn when they're both in bed and underneath the covers. With how she shakes and shakes in her arms, she knows that it's not the temperature in the room that bothered him, it's the memories, so she holds on harder to him. 

 

"I'm here with you, Steve. I'm here," she assures him. "I love you. I won't ever leave you alone, okay? I love you so much." 

 

Eventually, Steve settles and he's probably so mentally exhausted that he can't help but fall asleep again. Quinn, though, she doesn't think she could catch another wink, even if she tried. 

 

It seems late, but it suddenly hits her, while she's curled up with Steve, that she has her _soulmate back_. Here she had told herself that she would be some sort of stone for Steve to step off of until he was accustomed to the future and that when he didn't want her anymore, she would be okay with it, but she doesn't think she could be. She really, really, _really_ doesn't think she can stand to lose Steve a second time, even if it's to watch him walk away. Does that make her selfish? Probably so, but she's so goddamned tired and no one understands that—except for Steve. 

 

Quinn doesn't even realize until now exactly how lonely she's been over the years. As happy as she had been with Peggy, even Pegs couldn't exactly understand what it was like for Quinn, to be stuck inside a body that continually betrayed her, but Steve knew it well now because his body hadn't let him die. She couldn't be sure of how his version of the serum would affect his aging, but he would, at the very least, have to watch the rest of their friends pass on and…as bleak as it was, it made her happy. Not only that—Steve and Quinn…they were the only two people on the whole planet that were the way they were, that were super enhanced people.  

 

Back in the war, she could never ever understand how she ended up with Steve and Bucky as her soulmates, but now she thinks that maybe she has an idea. Maybe they were meant to be, after all. 

 

\--- 

 

They're both soaked in sweat because of their combined body heat and the blankets piled on top of them. Steve makes a face when he wakes up and takes in the state that they're in, and then he proceeds to kick the blankets off the bed, onto the floor. Fondly, she watches him sprawl out on the bed after the bed's stripped and pretty much pout. 

 

"Guess I should warn you," she speaks up and he turns his head to the side to look at her curiously. "I have 'em, too—bad dreams," she elaborates then knocks on her head as she adds, "It's a mess up here." She scooches closer and puts her chin on his chest, smiles bitterly. 

 

"We're a pair, huh?" Steve remarks dryly. 

 

"We're a pair," she breathes out and can't hide the relief that's in her voice. She thinks that maybe he knows why she's so relieved because his whole face softens. "Hey," she whispers. "You want to stay in and watch whatever history documentaries we can wrestle up?" 

 

Steve laughs. "Unless you have some clothes that'll fit on me, I don't think I _could_ be out in public." 

 

Quinn slides up in the bed a bit so that she can be face-to-face with Steve. "I should call someone about that," she whispers but makes no move to do it. Instead, she tangles her legs with his and, despite all the sweat and heat, presses as close as possible to him. 

 

He watches her with half-lidded eyes and his lips quirk up in a smile. "You _should_ call someone about that," he agrees but then leans forward to slot his lips over hers and prevent her from moving to do it.  

 

The two of them neck the same as a couple of kids would, but they're both happy to keep it at that and not push it any further. Quinn's not sure about Steve, but, honest, all that she wants to do is soak in the fact that she has him back. She's not sure she'll ever be able to get over it, but by God, she definitely has the time with him to see.


	12. 2011 - Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"War is hell." -- **William T. Sherman**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit. I'm sorry that this took so long. Not only was I on vacation, but I've been struggling to add in some more material before I throw the story into the Avengers. I want Quinn and Steve to reestablish their relationship before then, but then I realized that a week is nowhere near enough time to do that, so yeah. The next chapter is going to mark the start of the Avengers. Until then, have some more angst! >:]  
> As always, everyone that's supported me on here and on Tumblr, I love you guys so fucking much. It's gross how much I love you all. <3

Quinn's cell phone has been suspiciously quiet since she dropped it on Tommy, Jackie, Theodora, and Andrea that Steve was now out of the ice and shacked up with her, and it _really_ doesn't help out her nerves one bit that there hasn't been any immediate reactions or responses or even questions. Jesus, she'd used them to toe the waters since Tommy and the ladies didn't ever really _know_ Steve, only knew stories, and if _this_ was their response, she hates to see how the people who _did_ know Steve would react—or the people like Josie and Liam who had to see her when she was fresh in her hurt over his apparent death.

 

Of course, it didn't exactly help lower her blood pressure when Nick had personally knocked on the front door and whisked her soulmate away to SHIELD for the professional debrief she'd dreaded would come since Steve woke up. For God's sake, she's only had him a week. But her sweet, sweet Steve had assured her, as he was headed out the door, "You can stay here, Quinn. I promise I'll be okay on my own." And she needed to let him have some space, he didn't need her to hold his hand everywhere he went, she _knew_ that, but she almost had a panic attack at the idea of him alone—even if it was at SHIELD where he would be safe and sound.

 

It's late in the afternoon when Steve does make it back home and, to see him there in the doorway, it takes her breath away and, slowly but surely, she relaxes. Without a word, she tosses her phone onto the table in front of the couch and opens up her arms wide which is a pretty loud _come here_ because he looks exhausted and drained. He makes his way over to her and sprawls out across the couch, feet over the side of it so that he can put his head in her lap. She places her hand on his cheek, smooths her thumb across his cheekbone, and he closes his eyes at her touch.

 

Steve starts with, "I'm sorry about Jim. I know you 'n him had been close."

 

Briefly, Quinn wonders if he was the one who asked about the status of the Commandos now or if they had dropped it on him in the middle of debrief. If it was the latter, her foot was about to be up some asses at the base. "It...is what it is," she replies and she's careful with her words. "Y'know, even if I didn't have this serum to keep me fit as a fiddle, I probably would've had to deal with this, anyway. Liam's in nice shape and if Pa—" she purses her lips. "Anyway, I only wouldn't be as pretty as I am now, but I'd have to deal with it all the same."

 

Steve's eyes open, move up, and lock with hers. It's his turn to reach out and touch her cheek. "You haven't talked about your family. You've told me about _the_ world, but...not _your_ world, not really." Huh. Well, when he put it that way...she honestly really hasn't talked to him about what she's done—other than be a doctor. "How come you didn't tell me you helped found SHIELD?"

 

Lord, she really was about to knock some heads around at SHIELD. The wince she replies with, she can't help, because, "I didn't. I came up with the _idea_ , but I didn't...really do much. It was mostly Pegs and Howard that did the work. I—see, after the war, I had this idea. I wanted to protect the kids—kids like Liam and Sophia—from the hurt that we'd dealt with in the war and after. When I told her, Pegs said I wanted to make a shield, and...yeah, that's what it pretty much was. I never expected that she or anyone else would take it seriously." She suddenly looks up at the wall, too bashful to meet his eyes. "Like I said, I didn't do too, too much. I worked in medical, sure, and helped make some executive decisions here and there when Howard wasn't around and once he'd passed, but that's it."

 

"Everyone at SHIELD seems to think otherwise about that—Director Fury, included," he shoots back primly and she squints down at him, but he doesn't mind her. Instead, he asks with a drawl, "So, you wanna tell me about your family or do I need to pull your teeth out to hear about that, too?"

 

"Lord in heaven, man, lay off some. I'll tell you. Jesus." She flicks him on the forehead. It takes her a minute before she starts to quietly explain, "Pa...we lost him in 'sixty-six. It was bound to happen, I know, but...it came out of nowhere, it felt like. Guess that's what it's always like when you lose people. Black lungs were what killed him." She chews on her bottom lip. "Ma—well, she was sick, but I honestly think she died of a broken heart. It didn't even take her six months before she died after him. I think Liam took it hardest 'cause she refused to see a doctor, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't understand that when—anyway, that's that."

 

Steve reaches out to take her hand that's closest to him and laces his fingers through hers. It's an awkward position for him, but she appreciates it all the same, and his soft, "I'm sorry. I have an idea about how hard it was."

 

"They didn't spend too much time apart and I think that's 'bout all a kid can ask for. I miss 'em. I wish they could've been here to meet you. Pa would've loved you, I'm sure." She squeezes his hand hard once then let's him have it back. "So, Liam married Sophia—I told you 'bout her, I'm sure. Josie's baby sister?" He nods in affirmation. "They had them a baby and that's my lawyer nephew Thomas. I tell you that the proudest day of the whole Hayden family had to be when he had that diploma in his hands. He—sorry," she blurts when she realizes that her rant comes faster and faster and more excited. "I'll tone it down," she murmurs.

 

"No. No, don't tone it down. It makes me happy to see that you still run your mouth when you're really passionate about somethin'. I love it," he assures her and chuckles when her nose scrunches up at the _run your mouth_ comment.

 

She clears her throat and then starts back up. "Tommy married Jackie—sweet little lady. It was so funny, you don't have a clue, Steve. We went to Louisville to see him walk, yeah, so when it's done and over, he shows up and introduces her to us, say it's his _wife_ , and no one even knew. Sophia fainted. She was awful sore for years 'cause he kept it secret." She shakes her head at the memory. "They have two little ladies, Theodora and Andrea—well, not so much little anymore. Thea's actually in the army and Andy is headed off to school next year. I think she said she wants to be a doctor, too."

 

"They sound like real nice," he whispers and he smiles, but it's not happy or fond—it looks bittersweet and sour. "I'm sure they'll love me."

 

Her brows furrow. "Well, why wouldn't they?"

 

"You know why, Quinn," he answers quietly, but it only confuses her more because she honestly doesn't, and his expression softens. "I _left_ you. I _hurt_ you. Your family had to be the ones to help you and I'm sure they won't exactly be happy to meet the asshole who caused the pain."

 

"You didn't have a choice, Steve. You told me so, back when you—before you were about to...y'know," she doesn't want to talk about the crash at all around him because she doesn't want to put him in a bad headspace, so she tries her hardest not to mention it by name. "They know that, okay? To them, you're a hero. Hell, you're a hero to the whole world."

 

Steve takes a deep breath, let's it out slow, and, with the most pained expression on his face, asks, "But what about to you? Am I really a hero to you?" He leans up and puts his back to her before he confesses, "After France—after you almost died, I told you that I'd burn down the world and burn with it if I ever lost you and...and—" She reaches out to brush her hand over his shoulder blades because she knows who he means, but it only makes Steve tense up. "I had you to come home to. We could've made it without him if we had each other, but...I left you alone anyway. I died for him—tried to die for him. I don't know how you can stand to look at me and not want to punch me square in the face."

 

"Steve—" she stops, no idea what to say to him. Her heart's stuck in her throat and it _hurts_. It almost sounds as if he did have a choice other than put the plane in the ice, that he wanted to die rather than stay with her. "Steve," she tries one more time, but she's still lost on what to answer him with. So, she leans forward to wrap her arms around him from behind, presses her forehead to his back, and maybe tries to convince herself more than him that, "You didn't have a choice. You did what you had to do."

 

Steve hunches over, but puts his hands over hers, clutches so hard like she's some kind of lifeline for him. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I'm so fuckin' sorry that I left you alone," he breathes out. "You should leave me. I deserve it. I—I don't want you to leave, but you _should_. I'm a bastard and you deserve better."

 

"I don't deserve shit," she chokes out. "Oh God, Steve, you have no idea what I've done over the years. You have _no idea_. I've—there's so much blood on my hands and it ain't only from people I couldn't save." She doesn't want to tell him this, but she has to confess because if he wants to put it all out on the table then she should, too. "Turn around and look at me. I have to see you when I say this."

 

Steve moves around and it's an awkward position for them both, their legs crossed, about to tumble off the couch and on the floor because they're both so much bulkier. "We all have blood on our hands. We were in a war. There's even blood on the shield, too. You know we can't help what we had to do," he tries to reassure her.

 

"It's different. It's—" she ducks her head to watch her hands in her lap and they shake. She balls her hands into fists to hide it. "I spent a year in Europe after you went down and...it wasn't good, Steve. I...I never told the fellas, but...I sometimes acted like some lost little number in the woods and when I made it inside, I—I _massacred_ them and there ain't no better way to put it. Jesus, they made me into some kind of spooky story that they'd tell each other before we hit their bases." Her shoulders slump. "I shouldn't have become a doctor, not after what I did, not after what I _kept_ doin'. Trust me when I say, sweetheart, that it's you who deserves better."

 

Steve reaches out to take her hands and he squeezes them to comfort her, but that only makes her feel worse. She's come to terms with what she's become, but to confess her sins out loud to Steve...it makes her feel sick. And yet, she continues to spew out her nasty past. "I was a doctor for twenty years, I _helped_ , I did. Then, we found out about the serum and we tested what I could do, and—I was the closest that they had to—"

 

"—to me," he finishes for her quietly. Thankfully, when she peeks up at him, he tries to school the horrified expression, but his face is pale. "You were the super soldier they wanted me to be."

 

She rubs the back of her neck, drops her eyes back down. "Howard knew my weakness. I started only 'cause I wanted to make it easier on Pegs. It was another reason I hated the man, how he used her against me that way. The missions...weren't nice ones. It was steady work, but once the Cold War was done and over with there wasn't much of a reason to keep me around as a soldier so I went back to work as a doctor. I've pretty much been out of SHIELD ever since unless they need some serious muscle."

 

"They made you a _weapon_." Now, he doesn't even try to hide the horror. "They didn't have me anymore so they went after _you_. You were a _doctor_ and they made you a—"

 

"—a killer?" She snorts and remarks dryly that, "They didn't have to push too hard. I was already one before we found out about the serum. Like I said, those early days were...bad. I was so...pissed at Hydra 'cause of what they'd taken from me—us."

 

Steve reaches out to cup her cheeks and his thumbs run across the freckles sprinkled there. When their eyes meet, he searches and for what, she's not sure, but he does. "I never should've been allowed to have soulmates," he breathes out. It breaks her heart when he adds, "Swear to God, anyone I love ends up damned."

 

"That's not how it is, Steve," she disputes. "I've been blessed to know you. It hasn't been all bad. It's been...life. There's been ups and downs, but that's how it is for anyone." She pauses and thinks because he doesn't look convinced. "Zola would've taken me and Bucky no matter what." He winces at the mention of Bucky and she reminds herself that she has to tone it down. It hasn't even been a week for Steve yet. "They wanted it bad and they'd worked on it even before Project Rebirth. If you hadn't done what you did, the only difference is that we probably would've died on those tables, scared and alone, no one to save us. You saved us...in more ways than one."

 

Steve smiles at her a little, but it's sad. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. She buries her face into the crook of his neck. "Has anyone told you that you're really blind to the people you love?"

 

"It's been mentioned a couple of times," she answers.

 

\---

 

It'll be yet another failed attempt to make him sleep, but Quinn tries to wrestle him back to the bedroom when it's late. While she lets him settle down under the sheets, she heads into the nearby bathroom to shimmy out of her jeans and throw on some shorts and a comfortable, worn out shirt.

 

When she comes back out, Steve's in the bed, but he's not laid back. "You can take your clothes off in front of me, Quinn," he explains quietly. "We've seen each other naked plenty of times before." Then, he rethinks what he said, and ducks his head. "Unless you're not—this is your home. I don't want you to put yourself out for me. You can tell me to leave. You don't have to run away every time you need to put on some clothes."

 

Quinn hums. "It ain't that. I honestly wouldn't mind it 'cause, like you said, we've been up close and real personal with each other." She makes sure to take a minute to think over how she should say this next part and finally decides on, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

 

Steve snorts and smiles crookedly at her. "Prettiest dame in the world, yeah, that'd make me real uncomfortable." He blinks and then looks like he's had some kind of epiphany. "This isn't because of how...different your body is now, is it? Because of how much you've...y'know, bulked up?"

 

"No, Steve, it's not 'cause of that." The smile she shoots him is strained. "I don't want to stir up the pot, so let's leave it be, yeah?" He opens his mouth—she suddenly remembers how much he hates to leave shit alone—and her mouth presses into a thin line. "Some people don't have the kinda luck where their marks are on their backs and they can't see 'em." He winces and it's with his whole body, so it makes her try to pull back her temper. "I don't want to hurt you, that's all it is."

 

"I have you here." And yet, his voice sounds weak. "I don't want you to do that. I don't want you to hide from me because—I have to learn how to deal with this, how to deal without—"

 

God, Quinn's not sure why she didn't remember until that exact moment, but her stomach ties itself in nervous knots when she realizes that she hasn't told him about her defective marks or about how she lost Bucky in her own way, about how she let him down. It'll probably be better to...leave out some important parts of the truth, how he had been alive before those bastards took him from her in an explosion, because Lord knows that he blames himself plenty over how Bucky fell from the train and he'd be torn up to know that they probably could've saved him if they had only looked. Quinn's beaten herself up and hated herself over how she didn't look sooner and Steve wouldn't treat himself much better, either.

 

"It'll—" she fumbles for a decent explanation. "Even now, after so many years, sometimes I can't breathe with how much it hurts, but it's a whole lot easier to hold up than it was." He won't look at her, but she understands. She walks over and crawls into bed next to him. "I miss him, too, sweetheart."

 

"At least I'm not completely alone. I don't know what I would've done if I'd woken up without you here." He wraps and arm around her shoulders and presses her to his side. Then, he tilts his head to press his nose into the top of her head and breathe her in. "How'd you handle it? I'm a lucky bastard when I shouldn't be—one soulmate is better than none. You—you lost us both. What'd you do?"

 

"I didn't handle it well," she confesses. "I told you about the worst ways I handled it. I hurt people because I was hurt myself. Even the people I loved weren't safe from me." She'll always be ashamed of that. "It wasn't fair to Peggy. I used her 'cause I was desperate to feel somethin' more than heartache. I loved her, of course I did, but—it wasn't fair." She still hasn't answered his question. "I started to pay more attention to the people around me instead of me and I think that's what helped the most. It also helped that I lived by your momma's words, to always stand back up."

 

"Ma would've been happy to hear that someone listened to her," he jokes.

 

Quinn snorts. "I know, trust me. Missus Winnie told me plenty about you hoodlums." Steve leans away a little to stare at her in shock and she cocks her head to the side. "What? C'mon, you think I wouldn't take the time to meet them? First time I landed in New York, I went to see them. Then..." She trails off. After she takes a deep breath, she barrels on with, "After I brought Bucky back home, they pretty much adopted me as their own."

 

Steve makes a noise like the wind's been knocked out of him and jerks away from her so fast that she's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. "What—" his voice cracks and he shuts up. It takes a few minutes and Quinn turns so she can put her hands on his cheeks and wipe away his tears that have started to fall. "He's home?"

 

"Yeah, Steve," she confirms softly. "He's next to Missus Winnie and Mister George and the three of 'em are close to your momma and da, too."

 

"Can we see him?"

 

Quinn doesn't even point out how late it is. "'Course we can, honey," she answers and rolls out of bed so she can throw back on her pants from earlier.

 

\---

 

Since Becca had moved down to Indiana with her husband way back when, Quinn's helped keep the tombstones of the Barnes clan and Steve's parents clean, but there's only so much she can do and time's started to wear them down. They don't have any flowers to put down, what with the hour, but she doesn't think that Steve's much in the mood to do that, anyway. She's pretty sure he only wants to see the physical proof that Bucky's at home and at peace.

 

As soon as the two of them are in front of the faded stone with _James Buchanan Barnes_ etched into it, Steve plops down and stares. Then, he reaches out and runs the tips of his fingers over the letters.

 

"It wasn't much of a funeral. It was small." Quinn reaches down and laces her fingers through Steve's. "I stayed here for hours after it was done. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I...stood there and didn't move an inch." Now that she thinks about it, "I did the same with you. First time that Howard went to look for the Valkyrie, he let me come with him, and I'd stare out at the ocean for hours on end. I'd think about how you were buried out there somewhere." Steve's whole body is so tense. She squeezes his hand to show some support, but then she thinks on it and asks, "Do you want me to leave?"

 

"No," he answers hoarsely. “Maybe,” he rethinks. “I don't know,” he finally decides on. He turns his head to stare at her, so desperately lost and hurt. “This is real. It's—he won't ever come back. I won't ever see him when I walk in the door. We'll never be able to show you the nicest places in the city that you probably already been to by now. I can never touch him and I won't ever be able feel him touch me, either. I can never hear his voice, even if he couldn't hold a tune worth shit. He—” Steve takes away his hand so he can use both to cover his face. “He'll never come home from the war.”

 

Quinn may’ve had time to heal, but to watch Steve now, to see it really dawn on him that they lost Bucky and won't ever have him back, it reminds her of her own pain. What Steve feels now, it's the exact same that happened to her the very first year that Bucky's birthday came around and he wasn't there to celebrate it. _So much_ had been taken from her and Steve and it's once again put into perspective for her of just how much was stripped away from them. Those dreams they had, would whisper into each other's mouths when they went to bed, curled up with one another, were crushed to pieces because of the war.

 

Suddenly, it dawns on Quinn that maybe, honestly, none of them ever came home from the war—not those lovesick kids that were so certain of a future where all three of them made it out in one piece.

 

\---

 

The sun’s barely started to peek over the horizon when Quinn and Steve make it back home and crawl back into bed. Once they're both under the sheets, they hold onto each other and neither of them sleep—that's not on the table after their visit to the cemetery. Not for the first time since he's come back to her, Quinn runs her hands across his face, his shoulders, his chest where his heart beats, steady and true—and it's all so she can feel that he's there with her.

 

At least an hour of quiet passes between them before Quinn decides to speak up and break it. “Your momma ever pass down stories from Ireland to you?”

 

“Some,” he responds.

 

“What about the _slua_? She ever tell you about the _slua_?” He shakes his head. “Nasty fuckers,” she comments briefly. “Spirits of sinners or the real evil people and they're too bad for heaven and too much for hell and they weren't welcome in the Otherworld, either. They…just didn't have no kind of place in the world. So, they'd roam the lands, make trouble and cause destruction, take away innocent souls…” He's probably confused about where she's headed with this, so she then explains, “Even after all this time, I wonder if I'm one of them. It's not you that damned me, Steve, I was already there and I ruined both you and Bucky ‘cause of it. And as time keeps on tickin’, and I'm stuck in this same stupid body, I start to lose my place in the world more and more and more.”

 

Steve frowns and then his expression softens into a sad one. While he reaches out to tuck some hair behind her ears, he tells her, “That's not true, Quinn.”

 

"Yeah, sweetheart, it is," she shoots back tiredly. “I'm defective in every kind of way.” His mouth opens and she stops him when she takes his wrist and moves it under her shirt so he can touch the faded _James Buchanan Barnes_ scrawled onto her skin. “Even my marks are,” she croaks out. “Sometimes, his name would turn dark over the years.” Steve's breath catches in his throat and she nods. “Yeah, and you saw the tombstone. Doctors blamed it on stress from the losses at first, but then everyone decided at some point that I didn't need to mourn y’all no more. They blame it on the serum now. Me? I think it’s cause God wants to punish me.” She swallows hard. “In the war, I prayed you two wouldn't see me for how I really am—selfish and greedy. And I prayed that, maybe, God wouldn't take you away from me, but He did. Now that I have you back, I know I should walk away because I can't cause you no more pain, but…I don't want to.”

 

“I don't want you to, either,” he agrees and his thumb starts to slide over the name on her skin.

 

“I'm a completely different person,” she warns. “You've seen that by now, I'm pretty sure, but…” She moves her hand down to cover the one he has under her shirt. “We don't know how your serum will work over time, so maybe I'll lose you a second time, but you're the only other person in this world that's like me now. No one but you can ever really understand what it's like to watch the world you knew wither and die—well, it's wake up to, in your case.” She shakes her head and forces herself back on track. “Anyway, point is, I don't deserve you, but I'm stronger now and I'll do my goddamned hardest to fight for you. After all, I promised Buck I'd take care of you,” she adds softly.

 

A fresh batch of tears start to trickle down Steve's cheeks and when he wraps her up in his arms, she puts her ear over his heart and listens to it beat. She's been so used to the silence for decades—since her and Pegs called it quits—that his heartbeat’s kept her up the past week if she's cuddled up with him, but if that's the reason she loses some sleep, she's more than happy to sacrifice her eight hours.

 

\---

 

Thank God that no one from SHIELD comes to knock on the door later on in the day. Steve—and Quinn, for that matter—aren't much in the shape to be around people.

 

Steve pretty much holes up in the bedroom most of the day, but at least tries to act like it isn't because he basically mourns when he puts on some documentaries. Quinn makes sure to keep him fed and hydrated and absolutely makes sure not to fret over him because the both of them hate to be doted on. Instead, she curls around him protectively under the sheets, and decides around noon that they need to watch more than documentaries and puts on some of the more influential movies of the past century and she starts with a _Star Wars_ marathon. He complains a bit when she makes him watch them in order of the release dates, not the actual order of the movie universe, but she puts her foot down with, “You'll see them how I saw them and that's that.”

 

After _The Empire Strikes Back_ is over, Steve turns to face her and ask, “You have any cash on you?”

 

“Uh,” Quinn blinks. “Yeah? I think so?”

 

Sheepishly, he asks, “Can you float me some money? I promise to pay—” he stops when she shoots him a sharp look because, seriously, that was about to be the dumbest shit he could ever say to her. “I—” he clears his throat. “I wanted to head out into the city. I need to stretch and to, uh, think—” his face screws up at his lame attempt to explain what he wants.

 

Quinn, of course, understands what he wants. “Steve, you ain't my kept woman.” He chuckles and she smiles briefly. Then, as sincerely as possible, she explains to him, “You need to be alone? Then you can be alone. I'm not about to sit here and be stuck up your ass all the time. You're your own man before you're anyone else's, okay?”

 

Steve leans over to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Admit it,” he starts quietly and leans away to smile at her a little. “You’re just sick of my ugly mug.”

 

“Well, maybe that too,” she teases. “Go on now. Just…” She chews on her bottom lip and then huffs and shakes her head at what she's about to say. “Make sure you're not out at all hours of the night, yeah? Don't make me be one of them ladies that sits up and waits for her fella to show back up. I'm not sure the cops would even believe me if I tried to send them out on a manhunt for you.”

 

"I promise to be back before it comes to that.” His eyebrows raise up a little. “You my wife now, Hayden?”

 

Quinn smiles. “Well, if you remember, I _did_ propose to you way back when.”

 

“Yeah, you did.” It looks like there's a lot that Steve wants to say to her, and she waits for him to spit it out, but then he finally settles on, “Thank you, Quinn.”

 

\---

 

Quinn doesn't want to watch the next movie without Steve, so once he's out the door, she throws on some random show, and starts to clean up the place. She hasn't really done it since Steve's been back and the last time it'd been cleaned before that was…she's not actually sure. It's not in terrible shape, sure, but she needs some menial labor to keep her mind quiet anyway, so she scrubs it all down. She makes sure to throw open the windows because the chemical smells of the cleaners are sometimes way too much for her senses to handle.

 

Hours pass and Quinn thinks that she may FaceTime Andy to talk to her, Tommy, and Jackie about the texts she sent them and no one ever responded to. Before she can do that, there's a knock on the door, and it's obviously not Steve because he has a key and he comes on in since she's made it explicitly clear that it's his place now, too.

 

Quinn opens the door and blinks in surprise. “Phil?”

 

“Doctor Hayden,” he greets politely and she immediately takes note of the thick files he has under his arm. “We have a situation at SHIELD.”

 

“What kind of a situation?” she questions while her eyes narrow.

 

“The potential global catastrophe kind of situation.”

 

Goddamn it.

 


	13. 2011 - Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn wishes that Steve wasn't such a good person, that he didn't always answer the call to action when it came, but then he wouldn't be the man she fell in love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Y'all sure are gonna hate me at the end of the chapter. But hey! I didn't make you guys wait for a month for another update! I love you all and I can't wait to hear about your reactions!

"You want a drink? Food? You probably haven't ate in a while, have you? What with the whole potential end of the world or whatever, you probably ain't taken care of yourself like you should, I'm sure," Quinn assumes before she moves away from the door and heads back into the kitchen, and Phil takes the hint to follow her.

 

"No, thank you, Doctor Hayden," Phil answers, polite as ever. She waves toward a chair and he takes a seat then places the thick folder in the middle of the table. "I'm not able to spend too much time here. I'm headed to see Mister Stark once I'm done here with you."

 

Her brows shoot up. "Wow. Nick _must_ be desperate if he wants Tony to help out."

 

"It's a very serious situation, yes." When he opens up the folder and holds up the picture at the very top of the pile, she reaches out to take it from him and study it, and yeah, it's extremely familiar. It's that blue cube that Johann Schmidt obsessed over, Hydra's secret ace in the hole, what was used to power their weapons that could obliterate a person on impact. "This is the Tesseract. It's been stolen."

 

Now, Quinn knows that she hasn't been the most active with SHIELD, but, "When was this found? Why wasn't I ever told about it?" Surely, it would've crossed someone's mind to let her know that this cube had been found or maybe not since she would've told them to throw it back where it came from. She thinks harder and her eyes narrow. "And what the hell does SHIELD need with it, huh?"

 

"Howard Stark found it in one of his searches for Captain Rogers.” She can't hold back the roll of her eyes. _Of course_ Howard never told Quinn about it. She wouldn't be shocked if he didn't tell Pegs about it, either. The man probably stashed it away in Stark Industries and tried to crack open its secrets so he could cash in on them. "Recently, we learned that it could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. We've had our scientists on it ever since."

 

"Okay, so that don't explain why no one ever told me about it," she mutters petulantly.

 

"In our defense, you _did_ say that you wanted to be no more than a consultant and you are an incredible woman, Doctor Hayden, but you're not an astrophysicist." Good point there, she had to hand it to him. "We've come to you now because we need your help to find it before it's used to hurt innocent people."

 

Quinn tosses the picture back onto the table. "So who snatched it?"

 

"I assume you remember New Mexico? Thor?" She hums an affirmative. "It was taken by his brother, Loki. You weren't there in New Mexico, but let me assure you that an enhanced person such as yourself would be a lot of help to take him down." Phil pauses. “He's…taken some of our men. He has some kind of a scepter, from what Director Fury told me and it can…brainwash people, we think. Barton's one of them. He's been compromised."

 

_Fuck_. Some asshole with a stick that could brainwash people? _And_ the fucker took Clint? Well, now Quinn _has_ to help. Not like she wasn't about to not help before, but now it's a lot more personal. There's no way in hell that she's about to leave Clint up the creek without a paddle. Briefly, she wonders if Nat knows, but Nat _always_ knows, so that question pretty much answers itself.

 

Mind officially made up, she demands, "Tell me what I need to do."

 

"We need to know where he is before we can try to take back the Tesseract. We'll want to have you and Captain Rogers close, of course, so you'll be escorted to one of our carriers to wait at in the meantime."

 

Quinn's not sure at first if she heard him correctly and once she's absolutely sure she has, she snarls, "Absolutely not. _Fuck no_." She can't believe that they actually want to try and have Steve help. "Steve's only been out of the ice for a _week_. You are _not_ about to throw him back into another war. You want my help? That's okay. I can help hunt this asshole down. I promised Nick I'd be there when he needed me, but not Steve. You _can't have_ Steve." She scrubs a hand over her face. “Believe it or not, he's not some mindless super soldier. Steve is a person who, this past week alone, has had to deal with some very human problems. Then, someone—I swear to God, if it's Nick, me ‘n him are about to have words—decided they want to throw him into a war with space royalty on top of his other shit.”

 

Phil can't even look her in the face when he confesses that, "Director Fury's already spoken with him about it. I'm sure Captain Rogers is on his way back by now.” Her jaw clenches and she tries real hard not to throw a temper tantrum. “He doesn't have to accept the offer, of course. We know it's been a…very stressful week for him—for _both_ of you, to say the least." But Nick _knew_ that Steve wouldn't even think twice to pick the shield back up if the call to action came and that's what pisses her off the most. He _knew_ and he asked anyway. "I'm sorry, Doctor Hayden, but at this point, we need as much help as possible."

 

\---

 

Sure enough, not even ten minutes after Phil walks out the door, Steve makes it home. Quinn decides to not bombard him as soon as he walks in, but rather cocks her head to the side and takes in the extremely sweaty state of him. "Okay," she drawls and she tries to keep a straight face, but the corner of her mouth quirks up a bit. "Now, either you somehow found someone to work you over pretty nice—and if that's the case, damn, you work fast—or you had yourself one hell of a workout. Which is it?"

 

"Go behind the back of a dime like you? You think I'd really do that? I’m not that much of a yuck, am I?” Jesus, it'll probably take forever before she can hear compliments from him and not blush. Also, she really needs to work with him soon about how much the English language has changed since the forties. "No, I found a place where I can box." Then, sweetly, he walks over and pecks her on a red hot cheek.

 

Embarrassment doesn't stop how she beams at him and leans up to kiss him on the cheek, too. God, she feels twenty-four again. "That poor sand." As he walks past her, toward the bedroom—to drop off his duffel, she reckons, and she wonders where _that_ came from—she playfully slaps him on the ass and he squawks in surprise. Through her laughter, she orders him, "Go hit the showers, soldier. We need to talk when you're done." Steve shoots her a crooked smile before he heads down the hall and disappears into the bedroom.

 

When he comes back out about ten minutes later, she's curled up on the couch, but she has that folder Phil left behind on the little table in front of her. Steve immediately spots it, but then he looks back at her while he plops down on the couch. Steve doesn't speak up, waits for her to start the talk they need to have now thanks to Nick but wishes they didn't have to deal with at all.

 

"Steve," she starts quietly as she reaches out to take his hand and squeeze. "You've dealt with one war already. You shouldn't have to worry about another, especially not this soon since you woke up. You don't have to head back out 'cause you think it's your duty, okay? This isn't your responsibility." He doesn't owe the world a damn thing and she wants to make that loud and clear to him. "You already sacrificed a fuck-ton for this world and you don't need to add no more to the pile."

 

"What about you? You spent as much time in the war as me,” he points out. “It hasn't stopped you all these years, has it?”

 

"I was a nurse in the war."

 

"Doesn't mean you saw any less than the rest of us did," he retorts lowly and she makes a face. It's not like that isn't true, but she doesn't exactly appreciate it that he's called her out on it like that. "Do you plan to help?"

 

She rubs her forehead, at the headache that would happen if she didn't have a serum. She knows exactly where he's headed with this. "Yeah, but it's different with me. I _do_ have a duty to SHIELD. You don't." His brows furrow and his mouth opens to protest, so she interrupts him before he can bellyache. "You don't have to worry about me. I've told you that I didn't spend sixty-plus years with my thumbs up my ass. I can handle myself fine." She shrugs. "Besides, even if I didn't have a duty, I'd want to help because the person who stole the cube, he—they say he brainwashed a close friend of mine and I want to help take him back."

 

"Then I want to be there to help you." He has that determined face on and, in sort of a panic, she realizes she's lost this battle. "I can't sit around here and twiddle my thumbs while I don't know if you'll be back or not. I need to be there with you and I want to watch your back. I know you can handle yourself, I don’t doubt that, but I don't think you understand how much I don't want to lose you. You don't know how much it’d…ruin me to not have you with me."

 

Contrary to what he thinks, Quinn _does_ understand how much it would hurt. She understands so well that her whole body aches with phantom pain from all that time she spent without him. She doesn't want to lose him, either, especially when she's only had him back a week compared to how she's been without him for decades. To lose him a second time, when they've only barely started to…reintroduce themselves to each other, it would devastate her. Sure, she would probably live because she's lived with it before obviously, but she's so sick of pain. She's so damn tired of how the world always tries to snatch away her happiness. Unfortunately, the man's as hard-headed as she is, so he'll come whether she wants him to or not—even if she tries to send him on a guilt trip.

 

As she leans forward to kiss his forehead and wrap her arms around him, Quinn swears that she'll protect him until her very last breath.

 

_No one_ will take Steve away from her—not ever again.

 

\---

 

It's not one bit of a surprise that it's Phil who comes to pick them up and whisk them away to the quinjet that'll take them to SHIELD's carrier out in the middle of the ocean. What _does_ shock her is how cool and collected he seems to be around Steve when he shows up—but she'll wait because he's bound to have a fit at some point or another since he's finally met the man he's idolized since childhood. If she didn't know him so well by now, she'd think he was creepy with his obsession of Steve. But, hell, he's not the first to fawn over Steve, won't be the last, so maybe it wouldn't be creepy to her.

 

Once they're strapped in—metaphorically—and in the air, Phil hands them a tablet so that they can look over whatever information SHIELD has on anyone that is or could possibly be involved with this whole situation. Obviously, Quinn already knows about Tony—sometimes she wishes she doesn't know him as well as she does and the threesome experience still haunts her to this day, JARVIS, the little shit—but Steve doesn't know Tony. As for Thor, she only knows a little bit about him—she didn't stick around to see the battle that happened in the little New Mexico town. Oh, and even Quinn doesn't know the whole rundown of what went down with Doctor Bruce Banner. Nat told her about it some, that an experiment went back, and that he turned into a...well, a Hulk that could tear apart cities.

 

"Just when you think you've seen it all," she mutters under her breath as both she and Steve watch the Hulk's rampage in Harlem.

 

They read further into Doctor Banner’s file, watch more videos and look at more pictures. And Nat definitely hadn't mentioned to her that the reason Banner had turned into that monster in the first place was because he wanted to recreate the super soldier serum. For fuck’s sake, when would the world leave the damn secret to the serum alone?

 

Steve doesn't reply to her, instead looks up at Phil who stands close to the cockpit, by the pilots who warn Phil that they're about forty minutes out from base. "So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum used on me?"

 

"A lot of people were," Phil informs and Quinn tries not to scowl at him. Steve's always felt bad about the hurt he caused Quinn and Bucky because Schmidt wanted to recreate Erskine's successful version of the serum and Phil won't make him feel any better. "You were the world's first superhero and Doctor Hayden was the second, of course." She _does_ scowl a little now because she's _not_ a superhero, damn it, but Steve smiles and elbows her in the side. She does not blush, nope. "Doctor Hayden's been reluctant to share her version of the serum with anyone, for understandable reasons," he adds quickly before she can be anymore offended. "Banner thought that gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

 

The Hulk roars on the tablet and both Steve and Quinn glance back down to watch it briefly. Steve makes the offhand comment of, "Didn't really go his way, did it?"

 

"Not so much. When he's not that thing, though, guy's like a Stephen Hawking." The name flies over his head and Phil fumbles to explain better. His, "he's, like, a smart person,” is kind of lame and basic. Quinn notices how antsy Phil is and clears her throat while she tries to hide the shit-eating grin. _Finally,_ Phil can't hold it back anymore and blurts, "I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, officially. I sort of met you. I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping." Quinn doesn't even hide the grin now and Steve seems more amused than creeped out. "I mean, I was—I was present while you were unconscious from the ice…” Steve stands up to watch out the front of the quinjet, at the expanse of open ocean in front of them, and Phil keeps on shoving his foot in his mouth. "You know, it's really—it's just a…just a huge honor to have you on board." He's flustered as hell, for sure, but he he hasn't lost his manners and makes sure to add, "Doctor Hayden as well—it's always an honor to work with her, of course."

 

There's a little pause and the amused smirk starts to drop from Steve's face. "Well, I hope I'm the man for the job."

 

"Oh, you are. Absolutely," Phil assures. "Uh…we've made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input."

 

Quinn's eyes narrow at Phil—who doesn't seem to notice. Why the fuck does SHIELD already have a suit for Steve? This situation with Loki and the Tesseract is only a day, maybe two days old. She could let them have the benefit of doubt, assume that some poor souls worked around the clock to whip up a uniform, but she won't do that because she's not naïve. They want Steve to pick up the shield for them and they don't want it to be this one time. SHIELD wants Captain America to work for them, like how Quinn worked on and off for them across the decades. Howard had exploited Quinn's weakness for Pegs and SHIELD wants to exploit Steve's need to help people and his incredible sense of duty. So apparently manipulation is a requirement nowadays for people who want to work for SHIELD.

 

"The uniform?" Steve repeats and sounds more surprised at the information than alarmed. "Aren't the stars and stripes a little…old fashioned?"

 

"Everything that's happening, the things that are about to come to light…” And now Quinn is _definitely_ more suspicious and once this Tesseract situation is cleared up, she's about to have a serious talk with Nick about what SHIELD's been up to and involved in since she—kind of—retired. "People might just need a little old fashioned."

 

\---

 

The quinjet touches down on the SHIELD aircraft carrier and as the bay door opens for Quinn, Steve, and Phil, Quinn spots Natasha immediately and that makes her smile. She should've known Nat would be there to meet them. Damn, it's been…she's not sure when the last time she saw Nat was and isn't that a shame? Then suddenly Quinn's worried because Nat is Nat and Nat knows Quinn's history with Steve and why does she feel like she's about to introduce her boyfriend to one of her parents for the first time?

 

"Steve," Quinn starts as she touches said person’s upper arm to catch his attention. She then nods toward Nat. "Meet Natasha Romanoff and Nat," she makes sure to shoot Nat a sharp look which she hopes says loud and clear for Nat to be on her best behavior, "This is Steve Rogers."

 

Natasha smirks at Quinn briefly while she shakes the hand Steve offers. It's very scary for Quinn, she can admit that. “Ma'am," Steve greets politely.

 

"They need you on the bridge," Nat informs Phil. "They're running a face trace."

 

Phil nods. "Meet you there," Then he's off to head toward the doors that lead inside the carrier.

 

Before Quinn can even put in a word, ask her how she's been, keep her away from Steve, Nat immediately steps between her and Steve and starts, a little too cheerily compared to what she's usually like with new people, "There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice. I thought Coulson was gonna swoon." Quinn moves in on Steve's other side as she, Steve, and Nat head toward the edge of the carrier that overlooks the water. "Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"

 

Steve tosses her a smirk that's a mixture of surprise and amusement. "Trading cards?"

 

"They're vintage. He's very proud."

 

Quinn happens to look over her shoulder and she watches as a familiar man stumbles between agents and workers that hustle and bustle around the carrier deck. Well, she's familiar with him in the fact that she remembers his face and information from the files. Steve follows Quinn's line of sight and calls out, "Doctor Banner."

 

Doctor Banner walks up to meet them and shakes the hand that Steve offers. "Oh, yeah, they told me you'd both be coming." As he shakes Quinn's, he smiles a little bit less nervously. "It's an honor, Doctor Hayden."

 

Quinn has no idea why people are always so honored to meet her when she's not even that special. The man in front of her is one of the world's smartest people whereas she's a medical doctor—maybe one with the longest career in medicine but she's not even sure about that since she's always been in and out of the medical field as much as SHIELD—and he thinks he's the one who's honored.

 

"Honor's mine," she meekly responds and Steve ducks his head to smile for a second and she decides not to mind him a bit. "Word is that you can find this cube.”

 

Doctor Banner looks around, a little nervously, it seems—but he's been hidden out in remote places all over the world to make sure no city can be too decimated should his…bad side come out. "Is that the only word on me?"

 

"Only word that I care about," Steve informs.

 

Banner turns his attention toward Steve, "Must be strange for you," he gestures toward the carrier but what he really means is the brand new future. "All of this."

 

"Well," Steve pauses and a platoon of agents happens to march past them, "This is actually kind of familiar."

 

"Gentlemen, you may wanna step inside in a minute,” Nat advises loudly. “It's gonna get a little hard to breathe.” As she says that, the carrier under their feet starts to rumble and shake.

 

“Is this a submarine?” Steve questions as he and Banner inch even closer to the side of the carrier to watch the water.

 

Banner, rather than curious, comments dryly, “Really? They want me in a submerged pressurized metal container?” And again, on cue, the water starts to rush around the _rotors_ of what Quinn now realizes is actually a plane—or some kind of a plane? Whatever. “Oh, no,” Banner shouts over the roar of the wind and rotors. “This is much worse.”

 

Nat slides in beside Quinn to take advantage of Steve's preoccupation and loops her arm through Quinn's. “So, that's one of them?” she starts conversationally while she herds Quinn toward the door Phil had disappeared into. “That's your soulmate?” Nat moves away from Quinn once she's sure Quinn will follow without hesitation. “He seems very wholesome—very polite. He even has this apple pie vibe.” Quinn rolls her eyes. “So, how has it been for you? You haven't answered any of my texts.” She makes it sound as much of a pout that she can in public. She has a reputation to keep up in SHIELD, after all.

 

“Nope,” Quinn shuts down this talk right out the gate. “No, I am not talking about my—” holy Jesus, she doesn't know what to refer to Steve as around other people. Soulmate he may be and they may’ve kissed, but…does that really mean they're dating? Is it really that easy for them to start back up where they left off when Quinn's changed so much since the war? “I am not about to fall for your bait, Romanoff, you hear? I will avoid this chat. We should talk about Clint. I think that's more important, yeah?”

 

"Fair enough,” Nat concedes but she looks smug, like she's won a game that Quinn had no idea they were playing.

 

\---

 

As soon as the lot of them are in the bridge, Steve approaches Nick, who happens to greet the two men behind her with, “Gentlemen,” and a curt nod toward Quinn, “Doctor Hayden.” Then, Steve whips out a ten and hands it to Nick who smiles in amusement briefly while Steve continues past him to admire the view of the blue skies and white, puffy clouds.

 

Quinn passes Nick on her way to stand next to Steve, but she makes sure to let him know, “I don’t appreciate all the secrets. SHIELD is yours to run, but I'd appreciate it if I was kept in the loop.” Then, she lowly hisses, “And that you don't take advantage of the kind of person Steve is.”

 

Nick doesn't show any kind of reaction, not like she expected him to because the man is a master spy, but it doesn't make her happy. She hates when she can't read someone else's poker face. “Understood,” he replies then heads to meet Doctor Banner.

 

Quinn sidles up beside Steve and knocks elbows with him to catch his attention. “How cheesy would it be if I dropped the _this sure is pretty but not as pretty as you_ line?”

 

“About as cheesy and cheesy can be,” he shoots back but he smiles wider than he has around anyone else and she loves that—she loves how she has her own little secret world with him that no one else can be a part of, her heart melts with it. “World’s come pretty far, hasn't it?” He motions toward the windows for emphasis.

“Honestly?” He looks over at her and she smiles warmly while she admits sincerely that, “I'm happy to have a little bit of that old world here with me now.”

 

“I take that back,” he whispers as his cheeks start to turn pink and he chuckles lowly. “ _That_ was as cheesy as cheesy can be.”

 

Quinn peers over her shoulder when she hears Banner question, “Where are you with that?”

 

Nick points over to Phil, who's with a bunch of agents on typing and clicking away furiously on their computers. “We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet—cell phones, laptops. If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us.”

 

Nat crouches down next to someone on a computer that has a picture of Clint pulled up—probably inputed into their face trace system— and Nat touches it. “That's still not gonna find them in time,” she declares.

 

"You have to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?” Banner wants to get down to business and Quinn can definitely get on board with that. She'll have to tell him later how grateful she is that he decided to come help.

 

“How many are there?” Nick shoots back.

 

“Call every lab you know, tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I'll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places.” Quinn only kept up with a little of that and she's sort of sad that Tony hasn't shown up because he finally has someone to talk super science with. “Do you have somewhere for me to work?

 

“Agent Romanoff, would you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please?”

 

Nat heads over to Banner and, as she escorts him out of the bridge, she comments, “You're gonna love it, Doc. We got all the toys.”

 

“Great,” Quinn drawls under her breath. “Now we have to wait.”

 

“Not sure if it's good or bad that you're still impatient,” Steve teases.

 

\---

 

**Tony <<** _I miss you and I'm bored. ): Come see me? :)_

**Tony >>** _1) Don't say that again. It was weird. I'm not your booty call. 2) What about your frozen boy toy???_

**Tony <<** _Phil stole him from me >:(_

**Tony >>** _We need to have a serious talk about the smiley faces. You're old. Stop using them._

**Tony <<** _Hey!!! >:0 Fuck you_

**Tony >>** _Rude_

**Tony >> ** _Guess this means I have to come help now if you're there. I didn't want to come to piss off Eyepatch_

**Tony << ** _Aw you're the best Tony :D :D :D_

 

 

Quinn tucks her cell phone back into her pocket and stands up from the conference table to stretch. It's been _hours_ since they showed up to the helicarrier—Phil happened to throw that term out to Quinn when she mistakenly called it a plane earlier but Quinn still doesn't see much of a difference—and there's been not one peek of Loki or Clint or the Tesseract. It takes a lot for Quinn not to scream in frustration. Sitting and waiting always makes her feel itchy under the skin.

 

“I mean, if it's not too much trouble,” Phil politely comments and catches Quinn's attention.

 

Steve, just as politely, assures Phil, “No, no. It's fine.”

 

Quinn snorts when Phil explains, “It's a vintage set. It took me a couple of years to collect them all. Near mint, slight foxing around the edges, but—”

 

Jasper Sitwell, who Quinn only really knows in passing since he's worked on and off with Phil, Nat, and Clint over the years, suddenly shouts, “We got a hit. Sixty seven percent match—” he cuts himself off, quickly corrects himself with, “Weight, cross match, seventy nine percent.”

 

"Location?” Phil inquires.

 

“Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse.” Then, Sitwell dryly comments, “He's not exactly hiding.”

 

“Captain, Doctor,” Nick speaks up and both she and Steve look over at him. “You're up.”

 

Some nameless agent—hey, it's not like Quinn can know them all—escorts Quinn and Steve back to where their brand-spankin’-new uniforms wait for them and Quinn makes a face of horror when she spots Steve's. “Christ, that looks like your old chorus girl outfit.”

 

Steve cocks his head to the side, as if that'll make it look any better. “It's…not that bad.” Then, he spots her suit, which is sleek and all black, padded to the nines since she needs some cushion should she take a punch or two, with only an addition of a white star on the front that's similar to Steve's. “That's not fair.” He honest to God pouts and she grins in triumph. “I like that one better.”

 

“I'm not the one who didn't put up a fuss when they wanted me to stick with the name Captain America,” she chirps.

 

“They said it would help boost morale!” he defends with a whine.

 

"Chin up, soldier." Quinn claps him on the shoulder and waggles her brows. “It'll be all over soon enough and then we can talk shop about your suit with whoever made that monstrosity.”

 

\---

 

On the way to Germany, once Nat explains that Loki snuck into some party or gala or whatever it's called these days, Quinn suddenly has a thought. “Hey, why the hell would this prick need to hold up a bunch of stiffs at a party?”

 

Nat, who helps pilot the quinjet, looks over her shoulder which she shrugs. “Maybe it's because he wants to make some kind of a grand entrance? He has a serious superiority complex, if Director Fury’s reports were any indication.”

 

"Like the world needs more of those,” Steve mutters under his breath.

 

Quinn, however, can't let this go because, “This doesn't make sense.” There's no sign of the Tesseract on Loki, no power signatures from what the scientists at SHIELD could tell, so if he really wanted to make some spectacle, wouldn't he have his trump card on him? Wouldn't he do it at a more…crowded or known place? He's Asgardian, though, so maybe he's not sure what places on the planet are popular, but then again, he has Clint and a bunch of other SHIELD agents that could give him the Earth know-how.

 

“Get on the horn,” Quinn orders while she marches up behind Nat’s seat. “Ask them if there are any important places around this party.”

 

As it turns out, there _is_ an important place around the party—a warehouse that stores minerals and other important scientific elements and what-have-you. If Tony were with them, she's sure he would know what exactly Loki would need with a place like that or if she's talking out of her ass. Still, her guts says that this is a smaller part of a bigger game.

 

"I don't want you to be alone,” Steve whispers worriedly after she commands Nat to drop her off a little bit aways from the party where they'll wait until Loki makes an appearance while she checks out the warehouse.

 

“It's probably nothin’,” she offers with a crooked smile. “I'm probably paranoid.” He doesn't look reassured and she sighs. “Look, Loki hasn't left the party, right? So if there _is_ anyone up to no good at the warehouse, I can handle them. Super soldier power and all that.”

 

“Quinn—” his lips purse. “You're gonna go whether I want you to or not, aren't you?” Good to know he remembers that she's as stubborn as he is. “Fine. Just…be safe?”

 

“Back at you, sweetheart,” because if Loki shows up before she's done at the warehouse, he'll have to face down Loki alone. Scratch that. She's thankful Nat and her big guns will be there to back up Steve. She feels a little bit better about leaving him behind.

 

\---

 

In the darkness of the alleyway, Quinn hears movements before she sees them. She can also smell the pungent, metallic scent of blood in the air. Makes sense that there would be casualties since the warehouse is so heavily armed. When she moves around from her corner, she can see bodies sprawled out across the ground while other people—probably SHIELD people that Loki brainwashed before—scurry around to do whatever evil it is that Loki wants them to do on his behalf.

 

At the entrance to a smaller part of the larger warehouse, she spots someone familiar. “Clint,” she whispers to herself then touches at the comm in her ear. “Got eyes on Barton,” she tells Nat.

 

“Do you need me to send in Rogers?”

 

“No. Loki isn't here. He's a distraction, like I said. I can deal with Clint myself.”

 

“Be careful not to damage the goods. He'll be mad if you do.” That's Nat-speech for: _make sure you're careful with both yourself and Clint_. Quinn has become quite proficient in understanding Nat’s language.

 

Quinn carefully sneaks down the alleyway, toward Clint, who has some kind of device pressed to the keypad at the door. He's so preoccupied with waiting for whatever the device does to do that he doesn't even notice her. Of course, she's had decades of practice to actually be sneaky and unheard, so that works in her favor, too. Even if he did hear her—which he probably wouldn't, even with those high-tech hearing aids SHIELD gave him—he doesn't look armed anyway. Either brainwashing turned him mindless or he assumed that everyone who would be in his way was now out and whichever it is, she'll give him a hard time about the sloppy work later.

 

Before Quinn can come at him from behind, she hears…it's almost like a shimmer? It's _something_ and whatever it is, it makes her skin crawl and the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She whirls around to throw her fist at someone's face, but her arm is caught in a vice-like grip and is forced behind her head, bending her arm at an awkward, painful angle.

 

"What's this?” a voice with a hint of an accent purrs.

 

Quinn cranes her head around to see who has his hands on her and she recognizes him from the pictures. Long black hair that's slicked back, a definitely snobby air to him, and, oh yeah, there's the super Asgardian strength.

 

“Back off, asshole,” she snarls and tries to snatch her arm back from him. He grunts in surprise, definitely not expecting someone to have super strength like himself, but holds on tighter.

 

“You're not a normal Midgardian, are you?”

 

"I told you to back the fuck up, bastard,” she snarls and throws her whole body back against him so his grip will loosen up some. She's able to pull herself free, but there's a whistle in the air and she can't move quick enough to miss the arrow to her shoulder.

 

It's also more than enough time for Loki to recover and press the end of his scepter to the center of her chest.

 


	14. 2011 - Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time in the ice not included, the last time that Steve had to sleep alone had been a long time ago and he's not going to let Loki change that any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really weird writing a chapter in Steve's point of view. I'm not used to it. But apparently it didn't bother me that much because I got another chapter out really soon? So, um, here's this! Have fun reading about Steve pining and mooning over Quinn when she's gone. ;]  
> I love you guys!

The world…disappears. No, it’s not that it disappears, but it’s more that…her problems, it’s _those_ that vanish. Wait, that’s not it, either. Those troubles are there, aren’t they? Troubles don’t disappear out of the blue like that, do they? It’s when she thinks that, that there’s some kind of push at the back of her mind, a resistance to the peace—no, the _quiet_ that’s overcome her now. Whatever it is that’s clouded her mind, it pushes back even harder and then…she can’t hear the noise in her brain anymore. Where her mind’s always run a hundred miles a minute, always had to rethink every word and decision, always had to tiptoe around this or that, it…stops. There’s no more noise. It’s muted. Should her head feel so fuzzy? 

 

“That’s better,” Loki murmurs in satisfaction and, dazedly, she notices how the end of his scepter shines blue. It’s an unnatural blue. There’s a softer blue she prefers, isn’t there? “Who are you?” 

 

A resistance in her brain, but she’s transfixed on the blue, and the quiet chokes out whatever pushes back inside her head. “Doctor Quinn Esther Hayden,” she answers. Maybe she shouldn’t think so much anymore—let someone else do it instead. It seems easier that way, doesn’t it? She’s suddenly aware of how exhausted she is—mentally. 

 

Loki starts to prowl around her, examines, studies. If it was any other man, her skin would crawl…so why doesn’t it now? “You’re not some common human,” he repeats when he comes back around to stand in front of her. “What are you?” 

 

“I _am_ human, but I’ve been enhanced by an experimental super soldier serum. When I was a nurse in World War Two, I was kidnapped and experimented on. It wasn't until a couple of decades passed that we understood what the serum did to me. I have enhanced senses, strength, speed, and due to the extreme rate that I heal, I also have a slowed aging process,” she rattles off. 

 

“So, they believed that you would be the best defense against me?” She nods and Loki scoffs. “You humans are smarter than I initially believed you to be, but it was still a pathetic attempt to undermine me,” he sneers. After a moment, he shoves the end of the scepter close to her face and the haze in her head thickens. It feels like there’s cotton in her mouth, too. If she didn’t know any better, she'd say someone doped her up with some heavy medication. “Tell me what they plan to do now.” 

 

“There’s an ambush planned when you leave the party. Steve would try to take you down in hand-to-hand combat, but if that didn’t work, Natasha would be backup—air support, basically. We’re not sure how much you can take before you’re down for the count, but the plane has serious firepower—weapons,” she corrects, unsure how familiar the alien is with human phrases.  

 

“Natasha,” Loki repeats flatly. “This is the so-called Black Widow that the Archer told me about, yes?” She nods curtly. “And who is this Steve? Why do your superiors think he can best me?” He pauses. “Is this man similar to you? Is he also, as you say, _enhanced_?” 

 

“Yes, Steven Grant Rogers received the first successful version of the super soldier serum. Our country wanted an army of super soldiers, but the creator of his serum was murdered and the secret of the serum went with him. My serum was based off of the one Steve has.” There’s a distant voice that screams in the back of her mind, horrified that she would tell these secrets, but she can’t stop her mouth. “Almost seventy years ago, I worked beside Steve as a nurse in a platoon he led where we fought against Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull, who led a rogue Nazi science division called Hydra. Schmidt also used the Tesseract to power his weapons. After Steve and I lost our soulmate, Bucky, in the war against Hydra, Steve crashed a plane into the Arctic and was frozen for the past sixty-six years.” Then, she smiles some because, “Steve's my soulmate, too. I was lost without him for years and years. I felt like I'd healed, but then they told me they found him, and…there's no words. I'm happy. After all this time, they finally found him—he came home to me.” 

 

“How sweet,” Loki coos but she knows it's to mock her. She would've been mad before, but now she's indifferent to it. “So, this man is a soldier out of time,” he muses to himself then doesn't talk for a minute or two. “You’re a healer, but since you were ordered to come here and try to best me, I assume that you are a warrior too?” 

 

“I’m a super soldier. With Steve lost, when we had a measure of what I could do, when no one cared anymore that I was a woman, then I was used however I was needed. I’ve been trained more in combat than I was trained to be a spy, but I am versed in that some, too. A person can pick up a lot in sixty-six years.” 

 

Loki chuckles darkly. “You _are_ correct in that. Yes, I think you’ll be quite a valuable asset.” She straightens up as he sharply commands, “Soldier, you will accompany the Archer and take the iridium back to the Doctor. From there, you’ll assist both the Archer and Doctor however is needed to make my plans come to fruition. Should _anyone_ stand in your way, kill them. Do you understand?” 

 

Quinn nods. “Yes, sir.” 

 

It almost looks like Loki’s about to leave before he remembers something else. “Ah, yes, before we part our separate ways, are there any weaknesses your lover has that I should know about?” 

 

The screams at the back of her brain get so loud that she has to shake her head to try and rattle them into silence, but they don’t stop. They scream and knock around so hard that her head starts to _hurt_. She needs to _shut up now_ , a voice pleads. “I—” Loki’s brows furrow and he has to shove the scepter back into her face before the shrieks fade back away. “Steve hates a bully—someone with a bunch of power that only uses it to shove around the weak and poor. He’s stubborn and refuses to bend unless he _wants_ to. He’s extremely smart, has to be to know the exact angles to hit to have his shield come back to him. The shield is protection and a weapon, so take that out of the picture and he’ll be a little less defenseless. He’s scrappy, shield or not, so watch out.” She pauses to think some more. “But he’s new to this future, been out of the ice for a week, and he’s been…with me the whole time. I think that’s helped him some. Also, to him, it’s only been a week since he lost Bucky, and Steve and Bucky had been with each other their whole lives, so that hurt’s fresh. It's been decades to me, but to him, he's lost so much in such little time.” 

 

“Good,” he praises. “Now, to work, the both of you.” 

 

\--- 

 

 _Quinn should be back by now_ —it’s all Steve can think about. As soon as the noise from the street started up, she would’ve rushed to help, wouldn’t she? If she _did_ run into some kind of trouble, she definitely would’ve used her radio to ask for backup. Quinn may be brash and a little impetuous sometimes—like he’s one to talk—but she’d know if she was in over her head. If she had support available, she’d use it.  

 

Steve’s only made more nervous when he hears Agent Romanoff bark Quinn’s name into the radio and there’s no response, even when she repeats Quinn’s name over and over. It may not be bad—yet—and she could be in a position where she can’t make much noise. She used to be only a nurse without much combat experience, but it’s not that way anymore, and he has to remind himself of that. Besides, Quinn’s always been a spitfire and now she has a super soldier serum to back that up. She can handle herself out in the field without him. She doesn’t need him. 

 

He’d been told that Tony Stark wasn’t much like Howard—didn’t much like Howard, either—but he sure is as flashy and loves to put on as much a show as his old man, if his loud and grand entrance was any sign of that. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because he has the firepower to keep Loki down and he helps Steve manhandle Loki into a seat in the back of the plane. The pilot, smartly, picks up a weapon and aims it at Loki until they’re ready to head back out. 

 

Stark’s helmet hisses as he presses a button on the side and takes it off. He takes a look around the plane and when his gaze lands on Steve, his eyes narrow. “I really doubt Quinn would leave you alone for a second,” he comments. “So, where is she?” 

 

“She went to check out a possible lead. She was sure that Loki was only a distraction and there’s some kind of…warehouse near our location. Didn’t want to take too much of a chance, so she made me stay here in case he showed up,” he explains and nods toward Loki. “I heard she’d found one of the brainwashed agents—Barton? She’s been radio silent ever since and I haven’t been able to look for her since _he_ showed up.” 

 

"Yeah," Tony heaves a long-suffering sigh. “That sounds about right. Goddamn it, Quinn, you can’t ever stick to the plan.” Agent Romanoff loudly snorts and shoots Stark a pointed look, but Stark puts his helmet back on and commands, “I’ll check it out. You can stay here with Loki.” Then, he marches back down the ramp and shoots off into the dark skies.  

 

Steve’s not happy about it, especially when someone barks orders at him the way Stark did, and he wants to help hunt down Quinn, but he’s not sure the pilot and Agent Romanoff would be able to handle Loki by themselves, so he doesn’t move, only frowns. 

 

"How does it feel, soldier?" Loki drawls and Steve stares ahead, doesn't let Loki have the satisfaction of Steve's attention. It’s all the asshole wants—all any men like him ever want. “To be the one who waits now?” Steve's eyes snap over to Loki and the bastard smirks. Then, innocently, he adds, “It may be some time before you see her once more. If you wish, I could assist you. I'll make it a quick, painless death. That’s where she waits now, death’s door, as does your other soulmate. Bucky, was it?” 

 

The first reaction is that it feels like the air’s been punched out of him and then it’s like someone shoved their hand in his chest and has his heart in a vice grip, squeezes so hard that he can’t breathe. Then, red bleeds into his vision and he pushes the pain and hurt down while he lashes out to snatch Loki by the lapels. “ _Where is she_?” Loki’s smug and opens his mouth to taunt him some more, but Steve cuts him off with a hissed, “I would’ve known if she died. I would’ve felt it. So _tell me the truth_. Where is Quinn?” 

 

“So many years that your love spent alone. Tell me,” Loki starts conspiratorially, “do you honestly believe your bond with her would remain so strong that you would sense her pass on from this world?” 

 

Stark chooses that moment to show back up and with the way he storms back into the plane and then holds Loki at blaster point, whatever he had or hadn’t found didn’t make him happy. “ _Nada_ ,” he snarls. “Oh, wait, that’s not right. I _did_ find something— _blood_. It matches her blood type. It’s not much, probably a minor injury, but other than that, there’s no trace of where she is.” The circle in the palm of his hand starts to glow and whirs with building energy. “You have one last chance to make it out of this in one piece, Reindeer Games. Tell us what happened.” 

 

Agent Romanoff shoves herself between Steve and Stark—wraps a hand around Steve’s upper arm and puts a hand on Stark’s raised hand to push it down. “Captain Rogers, _Stark_ ,” she starts slowly. “We have orders to bring Loki in alive. If you hurt or _maim_ him, then we’ll never know the truth about where both the Tesseract _and_ Quinn are.” Stark, at least, puts his hand down, but Steve can still hear the loud whir of electricity under the metal. “We have to leave. The sooner we have him with SHIELD, the sooner we can make him talk.” The only hint of how she feels about the situation is how her lips press into a thinner line. “And if there’s no trace of her here, then our best bet is to use SHIELD’s many resources to track her down. This is what Quinn would want and you know it.” 

 

“Sure,” Stark snaps as he tears off his helmet and if looks could kill, the one he shoots Loki would put the asshole six feet under—where he _should_ be, in Steve and a hell of a lot of other people's opinion. “Because Quinn fucking Hayden’s followed rules and orders her whole life and definitely hasn’t thrown her ass in the fire to save people.” 

 

\--- 

 

It won't settle and it’s not only because Loki kidnapped Quinn—because he refuses to believe Quinn’s dead. Steve saw what that scepter could do, so a look at Stark’s weapons couldn’t have scared him _that_ much. Not only does he have a powerful weapon, but Loki packs more of a punch than maybe even Steve himself, so he’d have a decent shot if he took on Steve and Stark at the same time. Since Quinn’s hunch had been on the money, Loki obviously tries to play two steps ahead of everyone else, so maybe he has some ulterior motive for why he’s let them take him in so easily. 

 

“I don’t like it,” Steve mumbles quietly to Stark. Quinn told Steve that Stark’s smarter than his old man ever was, so maybe he can understand how…odd this whole situation seems, how it feels like _Loki_ is the one who has them trapped. 

 

“What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?” Good, so Stark _did_ sense it. 

 

“I don’t remember it being _that_ easy,” Steve remarks dryly. “This guy packs a wallop.” 

 

“Still, you are pretty spry for an older fellow. What’s your thing? Pilates?” 

 

What? “What?” 

 

“It’s like calisthenics.” As if that’s enough of an explanation for Steve. “You might have missed a couple of things doing time as a Capsicle.” 

 

Steve should’ve known that a Stark— _any_ Stark—couldn’t take much seriously. How he even believed that Stark would be of any help to him, he didn’t know. “Fury didn’t tell me he was calling you in.” Then, to hit the point home that maybe he should start to be _more damn serious_ about the situation, Steve adds, “Or _Quinn_ , for that matter.” 

 

Stark doesn’t seem to take the hit too personal, but he does shoot back at Steve, “Yeah, there’s a lot of things Fury doesn’t tell either of you.” 

 

Thunder suddenly booms above their heads and lightning streaks across the dark skies. It seems like it came out of nowhere and Agent Romanoff must’ve not expected it either, since she asks, “Where is this coming from?” 

 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Steve can see movement, and he turns to watch Loki, suspicious—maybe _he_ could’ve caused the weather, but that’s not the case. Loki watches out the windows warily, is twitchy, like he’s scared of the storm, and Steve’s a little blown over by that. “What’s the matter?” Steve’s vindictive about it, but he has every reason to be. “Are you scared of a little lightning?” 

 

“I’m not overly fond of what follows,” Loki replies. 

 

By Stark’s own confused face, no one expected _that_ out of Loki. 

 

As lightning continues to strike all around them, there’s a thud right above their heads and the plane shakes—like something hit them. Steve honestly doesn’t know what to expect at this point, so he scrambles for his shield because who knows what the hell could be out there. Stark has the same idea since he puts back on his helmet and presses a button to open up the back of the plane.  

 

Before he can fly out and check out what hit them, a blond man lands on the end of the ramp, and he has a…hammer? A hammer that apparently kicks ass because he throws it at Stark so hard that Stark flies back and slams right into Steve. Steve can handle a lot, but even he’ll get knocked on his ass if someone throws a fucking iron suit at him. Steve can’t see what happens afterward since he and Stark have to scramble back to their feet, but Loki’s not there anymore when they’re back up. 

 

Goddamn it, can’t they catch a break? 

 

Stark groans. “Great. Now there’s _that_ guy.” 

 

“Another Asgardian?” 

 

Asgardian…Asgardian…he’d heard that name before somewhere—wait. Quinn had told him a story, about how she’d met an alien before and her exact words were, “He was the most polite and beefiest fella I’d ever seen.” Then, she’d squeezed Steve’s arm with a crooked smile. “No offense, honey.” 

 

“That guy’s a friendly?” Steve incredulously asks. Quinn definitely hadn’t mentioned the hammer deal or that the alien was a fan of _shoot first and ask questions later_. 

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Stark tells them. “If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract’s lost.” He moves to head after Loki and the other Asgardian—Thor, Quinn told Steve that his name was Thor. 

 

Quinn’s life is on the line, so, “Stark, we need a plan of attack.” 

 

“I have a plan. Attack.” 

 

For _fuck’s sake_. Quinn’s a fucking _saint_ to put up with a Stark for so many years.  

 

Steve can’t leave this to chance, can’t risk the loss of Loki and therefore the loss of any information about where Quinn is, so he rushes to snatch a parachute and strap it on. While he readies up for the dive, Agent Romanoff warns, “I’d sit this one out, Cap.” 

 

“I don’t see how I can.” 

 

“These guys come from legend. They’re basically gods.” 

 

“Gods that can bleed,” Steve points out and picks up the shield to take with him. Agent Romanoff looks over her shoulder and watches him. He’s not sure if she’s worried or not, but he should make sure she knows that he won’t rethink this decision. “Ma’am, Loki knows where Quinn is. I can’t risk her.” Then, he sprints toward the open hatch of the plane and throws himself into the dark. 

 

\--- 

 

Parachutes are so damn slow. Fuck, he didn’t remember how slow they were. It would’ve been faster if he’d dived bare and aimed for the trees. Once he does _finally_ touch down, it’s not exactly the hardest to see where Stark and Thor ended up. Lightning strikes down in one single spot and there’s the sound of small explosions before trees start to crack and tumble down.  

 

Thankfully, up on a ridge that overlooks the action, Loki sits and waits. Thor _must_ be a friendly because Loki would rather watch and see if Thor gets his ass kicked than make a break for it. _Or_ …Steve’s theory from earlier is true and Loki wants to wait and come back with them to make sure that whatever his plans are stay in motion. 

 

Well…maybe Loki does want to watch Thor and Stark beat the shit out of each other. It _is_ a little fun to watch, Steve learns, when he does find the both of them amidst the wreckage of the woods.  

 

Still, he _really_ doesn’t have time for this bullshit, so he shouts, “Hey,” then aims the shield perfect to hit the both of them—which, admittedly, is even more fun to see. “That’s enough.” He throws himself off the end of the splintered tree and stares down Thor. “Now, I don’t know what you plan on doing here—” 

 

“I’ve come here to put an end to Loki’s schemes.” 

 

Fine. “Then prove it,” Steve challenges. “Put that hammer down.” 

 

Unfortunately, Stark decides it’s a perfect time to run his mouth. “Uh, yeah, no, bad call,” he warns. “He loves his hammer—” Thor does what Steve kind of wants to do, which is shut Stark up, but he does it a lot more violently when he throws his hammer back and hits Stark square in the chest.  

 

“You want me to put the hammer down?” 

 

Steve squats down quickly when Thor throws himself at Steve, hammer raised and ready to strike. He braces for impact and when the hammer clashes with the vibranium of his shield, there’s a…one hell of a reaction. There’s a bright flash of blue and Thor must’ve used so much power that the reverberations decimate the immediate area around them and toss Thor back. It echoes across the woods and Steve has to hold back the groan of pain because he was dead in the middle of ground zero and that was _loud_. 

 

Because Steve’s fed up at this point, he sarcastically questions them both, “Are we done here?” He’d expected to work with adults, not toddlers who threw temper tantrums. Then, out of nowhere, he misses Quinn because she would’ve been able to stop the two of them with one look and if she really wanted to make them piss their pants, she’d put her hands on her hips, too. God knows it put Steve in his place. 

 

\--- 

 

“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?” Doctor Banner is the first to speak after Director Fury takes a crack at Loki and the video that plays on the table turns black. 

 

Steve knew it wouldn’t be easy to make Loki talk, but from what he could see, “Loki’s gonna drag this out.” Their next best bet would be from someone who knows Loki—even the littlest bit can help. “So, Thor, what’s his play?” 

 

“He has any army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard, nor any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.” 

 

To make sure he understood that correct, Steve repeats, “An army…from outer space.” Since no one corrects him, it must be exactly what the Chitauri are. Steve tries to remind himself of Johann Schmidt, but that really doesn’t help. 

 

“So, he’s building another portal,” Banner deduces. “That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.” 

 

“Selvig?” Thor questions. 

 

“He’s an astrophysicist.” 

 

“He’s a friend,” Thor shoots back. 

 

“Loki has him under some kind of spell,” Agent Romanoff informs. “Along with one of ours and—” 

 

“Quinn Hayden,” Steve interrupts and Thor’s thrown for another loop. “You remember her, don’t you? She told me that she met you once.” He nods and Steve’s satisfied that Thor understands how serious this really is. “I want to know why Loki let us take him. He’s not leading an army from here.” 

 

“I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy’s brain is a bag full of cats. You could smell crazy on him.” Steve won’t correct the Doctor there. 

 

Thor isn’t happy about the jab. “Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard and he is my brother.” 

 

Agent Romanoff doesn’t look all that sympathetic for Loki—or Thor’s plea on his brother’s behalf—when she points out, “He killed eighty people in two days.” Steve likes her a lot more for that. 

 

Thor, stumped, offers, “He’s adopted.” 

 

“I think it’s about the mechanics,” Banner helpfully moves the conversation back on track. “Iridium,” he stresses. “What do they need the iridium for?” 

 

“It’s a stabilizing agent,” Stark answers while he walks onto the bridge with Agent Coulson beside him. Stark tries to have a quiet conversation with Agent Coulson, but the agent forces Stark’s attention back to them. “It means the portal won’t collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD.” He walks past Thor and pats him on the arm. “No hard feelings, Point Break. You’ve got a mean swing.” Then, “Also, it means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants.” Stark moves between business and jokes because, in front of Director Fury’s terminal, he says, “Raise the mizzenmast. Jib the topsails.” No one’s impressed and he points over at a random agent. “That man is playing _Galaga_. He thought we wouldn’t notice, but we did.” What the hell is _Galaga_? “How does Fury even see these?” 

 

“He turns,” one very unimpressed Agent Hill—who Steve’s met in passing, but she reminds him a lot of Peggy—responds. 

 

“Sounds exhausting,” Stark murmurs while he starts swiping at the screens. “The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton, with Quinn’s muscle and connections to help, can get his hands on pretty easily. The only major component he still needs is a power source of high-energy density. Something to kick-start the cube.” 

 

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” Agent Hill inquires. 

 

“Last night.” Quinn _did_ say he’s one of the smartest people on the planet. “The packet, Selvig’s notes, the extraction theory papers—am I the only one who did the reading?” 

 

Steve _did_ try to read those papers, but they went over his head pretty quickly. Quinn didn’t last much longer after him, muttered, “Holy shit, I can't understand a lick of this.” Still, Steve understands a lot better now that Stark’s explained it and guesses that what they need to know is, “Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” 

 

“He would have to heat the cube to a hundred-twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.” 

 

“Unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.” 

 

“Well, if he could do that, he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet.” 

 

“Finally, someone who speaks English.” 

 

“Is that what just happened?” If the serum didn’t work nearly as well as it did, Steve’s sure he’d have a headache from where he tried to keep up with that conversation Stark and Banner had with each other. 

 

Stark and Banner shake hands. “It’s good to meet you, Doctor Banner. Your work on antielectron collisions is unparalleled and I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage-monster.” 

 

Banner, same as everyone else—except Quinn, probably—doesn’t know how to react to Stark and merely answers with, “Thanks.” 

 

“Doctor Banner is only here to track the cube,” Director Fury interrupts to make perfectly clear to Stark that that’s all Banner will contribute to their efforts. “I was hoping you might join him,” the director adds. 

 

“I would start with that stick of his,” Steve suggests. “It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a Hydra weapon.” 

 

“I don’t know about that, but it _is_ powered by the cube,” Director Fury explains. “And I would like to know how Loki used it to turn three of the sharpest people I know into his personal flying monkeys.” 

 

“Monkeys?” Thor questions. “I do not understand—” 

 

“I do,” Steve quickly cuts him off. “I understood that reference.” You bet your ass he’s proud of that achievement. There’s honestly not much these days that he can understand, especially after that whole exchange between the scientists. He can push down the sadness he feels when he thinks about how Quinn would probably pat him on the back for that. 

 

Stark motions toward the hall behind them. “Shall we play, Doctor?” 

 

“This way, sir,” Banner answers and leads Stark out of the room toward his laboratory. 

 

\--- 

 

Honestly, Steve’s kind of offended someone would offer him a bunk to sleep. Even if Steve _wanted_ to sleep—and he _doesn’t_ because he wants to find Quinn and end this shit-show with Loki and his army once and for all—there’s no way he could. Time in the ice not included, it’s been…a _really_ long time since he’s slept alone and he doesn’t want to start. Now, what he _could_ use is the bathroom in his quarters. 

 

Steve pokes his head out of the door to his bunk and catches the first female agent that comes down the hall with a polite, “Excuse me, ma’am.” He’s happy she’s not overly star struck when he talks to her. “Do you happen to have a compact mirror or know how I could get my hands on one?” 

 

“I’ll find one for you immediately, Captain Rogers,” she assures and darts down the hall. 

 

When he’s thanked her and has the compact mirror in hand, Steve shuts the door behind him and deals with the complicated process of taking off the top half of his uniform. It takes a lot longer than he’s proud to admit, but once he’s bare-chested, he heads into the little bathroom attached to his bunk, puts his back to the larger mirror, and tries to angle the compact mirror so he can see his shoulder blades. 

 

 _Quinn Esther Hayden_ —black as night and scrawled out as if Quinn herself had taken an ink pen to his back. Okay. Okay, that means Quinn is alive and healthy. Steve _knew_ that Quinn was alive, but to have his soul mark to prove that fact helps ease the fear that’s turned into a weight in the middle of his chest.  

 

Steve steps back out beside the bed to put back on his uniform, but he spots someone in the doorway, and only his shoulders tense up at the surprise. “I apologize. I had no idea you were in a state of undress.” Thor steps forward so that the door closes shut behind him and no one can sneak a peek at Steve. He can’t say that he cares too much since people have seen him in some state of undress his whole life, before and after the serum—only, after the serum, people liked the view a lot better. “I wish to offer an apology for many things.” He pauses. “Lady Quinn spoke with me for many hours into the night and she made mention of her true matches. You’re one of them, aren’t you?” 

 

The tension bleeds out of Steve as he exhales loudly and drops down on the bed. “Yeah, she’s my soulmate,” he answers quietly. “How much did she tell you?” 

 

“Quite a lot about her, from a human perspective, long life,” Thor explains. “She told me about how she was…well, she seemed to think her longevity a curse, how she has lost much, _you_ included. She also told me how much it relieved her to come across a kindred spirit, someone who too understands the burden of too much life.” He studies Steve, expression unreadable. “How have you come back from the dead?” 

 

“Frozen and preserved in ice,” Steve looks away from Thor and frowns. “Sorry, but she didn’t tell me much about you. In her defense, she’s had to catch me up on nearly seventy years of stuff, so she couldn’t put too much detail into it.” 

 

Thor’s quiet for a minute or two and Steve peers back over at him. “I was not aware of who you were or that Lady Quinn had been taken under Loki’s enchantment. When you tried to speak calmly with me, I understand now you only wanted to hasten your return here and start the search for her, yet I resisted quite violently, and for that, I am truly sorry.” 

 

“’S okay, Thor,” he breathes out and tries to force a smile but can’t do it. “I know you were probably as emotional as me. I didn’t know Loki was your brother.” He does feel a little bad for Thor—he probably couldn’t help how Loki turned out, so no need for Steve to hold that against Thor. 

 

“Loki has a troubled past, but I can’t excuse him for the hurt he has caused you and countless others. I can only offer my apologies on his behalf. I swear to you, on my honor, that I will assist you in any way possible and use whatever at my disposal to help bring Lady Quinn back to safety.” 

 

“Thanks, Thor,” and he does genuinely mean that. “I appreciate it.” 

 

“I can see that you love her very much.” 

 

“She’s my whole heart,” Steve admits in a whisper. 

 

“I have someone near to my heart, as well, and once I am done here, I intend to make sure she is safe and hasn’t been touched by Loki’s schemes. I ache on your behalf, my friend, to be reunited with your love after so much time and such circumstances, only to have her taken from you once more.” Steve knows he doesn’t mean it, but he wants Thor to shut up about how Quinn’s out in the wind because it feels a whole lot of the same as if someone rubbed salt into his cuts.  

 

Steve closes his eyes and tries to convince himself that, “She’s okay, I know she is. She’s worked her way up to the top over the years, so Loki wouldn’t hurt her anyway, not with her serum and her access to a lot of people and places, but she wouldn’t even need that to stay alive. Brainwashed or not, Quinn’s a fighter—the strongest person I know.” 

 

“I sensed her strength, too.” Thor walks over to clap Steve on the shoulder. “I know my words mean little, but I am happy that you two have found each other across such a wide expanse of space and time. My people would celebrate such a legendary love with music if they heard of it. You were torn apart, but you came back to one another before and I have no doubt it will happen once more. Have faith, friend.” 

 

Faith is all Steve pretty much has left at this point. 

 


	15. 2011 - Part VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve doesn't want to sleep alone and Quinn tries to help him out with that by putting him to sleep with the fishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Yeah, yeah! Don't worry! I'll have the chapter out in no time!  
> Me: [A month later] I.....swear I'm.......almost done....  
> You guys: [Stares into the camera like you're on The Office]  
> I'm sorry that it took me so long to update. I had to be an adult this past month. I'm getting ready to start student loan payments and I bought a new car! So, adulting! Thanks so much for putting up with my slow updating! I love you guys!

 Quinn was told there's supposed to be freedom in this, but it sure doesn't feel that way to her. There's a voice that screams and pushes at the quiet inside her head. Sometimes it's so loud that she can't focus and sometimes it's a muted presence, but it's _there_ and, for the life of her, she can't understand the words it says and it frustrates her so damn much. Every action she takes, every order that she obeys, the two forces—noise versus quiet—battle each other non-stop. The haze always wins out, in the end, but…she is so exhausted that she doesn't even want to move anymore, but it doesn't matter how tired she is in her head. Her body doesn't match up and it doesn't wear out. Plus, she's a soldier and she _has_ to move ahead with the mission. 

 

Freedom to make your own choices is a lie, true peace comes when someone else is in control—that's all the head scientist has ranted about since the truck with him and his invention in the back picked up her and Clint in Germany. To Quinn, all she can think is that it feels like her heart's been ripped out of her chest and what runs the show now is her brain, no emotions to affect decisions at all—but that's not what freedom is supposed to be, is it? 

 

Quinn watches blankly at the scientist scurries around while he and the other people ordered to help him work try to finish up their machine. "Are you almost done, Doc?" Clint questions from beside her and his face is as expressionless as her own. All he's been since she came on board is business, business, business and he knows how to be serious, sure, but…she hasn't seen him smile once and it's weird and odd.   

 

The scientist waves a hand at them but his attention keeps on his work. "Yes, yes," he answers. "You can continue with the next phase of the plan. By the time you find all of the equipment you'll need, I should be done. I'll keep in touch if there's a problem or delay of some sort." 

 

Clint stands up and pats Quinn on the shoulder, a silent order for her to stand with him. "We need on the helicarrier. You know where we could find a plane?" 

 

The tactical part of Quinn's brain answers with, "I know a warehouse where there's some SHIELD uniforms and a quinjet, probably. It'll be easier for us to blend in if the men have on the same gear." Clint nods and her lips purse when she realizes, "SHIELD's probably on the lookout for any use of my clearance. If they see what we've stolen, they'll know what we're up to or, at the very least, they'll be on alert. Looks like we'll have to do this the hard way." 

 

"I'm not that worried about it," he tells her and leans down to pick up his bow.  

 

\--- 

 

The men that Loki wrestled up to help with the attack on the helicarrier rush around to dress and arm themselves before they head out. While everyone readies up, they have to hop around dead bodies scattered around the warehouse and Quinn stares down at one. When she can hear Clint behind her, she mutters, "We shouldn't have killed them." 

 

"Hey, Loki told us to kill anyone that stands in our way," Clint reminds her and moves around to stand in front of her. 

 

Quinn tries to reach for a reason but the haze starts to close back in on her head. She needs to shut up and obey. Whatever needs to be done to complete the mission, she does it and shouldn't talk back. "We could've been sneakier about it. You don't think SHIELD won't be suspicious when none of these people report in? What if SHIELD looks into the camera feeds and sees us, huh?" 

 

Clint reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. "I wiped the cameras. Even if I didn't wipe them and SHIELD _does_ look into this place, it'll be too late and we'll already be there. Besides, they're a lot more concerned about what they have on the ship." He squeezes her shoulder harder and eyes her warily. "You're not compromised, are you?" 

 

That's some irony there because SHIELD and everyone they know would consider them compromised. “No, I'm okay,” she answers with a shake her head. "Just...we could've been smarter about this." Loki's power slowly starts to bleed back into her brain and takes control. "What's the plan?" 

 

Clint seems satisfied with her answer and explains, "Our top priority is to crash the helicarrier. Whatever we need to do to put it down, we do it. You're our muscle on this. Cause as much chaos and destruction that you can to make sure no one can stop and work to keep her up in the air. You see someone that _does_ try to help in any way, you heard what he said—you kill them." Goddamn it, the screams come back. They're always so much louder when she's about to bloody up her hands. "I have some tech that'll make their systems go dark. It'll free Loki _and_ cut power to the turbines. You understand?" 

 

"Yeah, I understand." Yet, when she walks away from him and moves to arm herself, she's slow, feels like someone replaced her limbs with a metal so heavy that even she has a hard time with it. She doesn't want to move, she doesn't, but she has to and she does. The force that controls her and keeps her quiet and docile makes her move. 

 

"Then let's move," Clint orders while he snatches up his bow and heads toward the plane they've stolen from SHIELD. 

 

\--- 

 

Once they're so close to the helicarrier that SHIELD sounds over the radio and demands to know what their purpose is and to provide some clearance, Quinn switches the com in her ear back on so that she'll be able to listen in on SHIELD's radios—well, on the private line between Nick and everyone he called in to help. She never turned it back on because she didn't know if there's some kind of tracker in it, but it's too late for them to do much about it now. 

 

"Move," Quinn orders to the pilot and copilot in her way when she walks to the cockpit and she punches in her access code on the computer to send to SHIELD. Since it's a SHIELD quinjet, it should be linked up with the helicarrier. The people on the other end of the radio immediately shut up and Quinn waits. Then, as expected, in her ear, she hears Maria bark over the radio, "Director Fury, Doctor Hayden's clearance was just used and she's at our front door."  

 

Quinn keeps her eyes on the helicarrier, to make sure they won't make a move to fire on the quinjet—but they won't because neither Steve or Tony would let SHIELD blast her out of the sky. While she keeps her eyes on them, she raises up a hand to motion to Clint that they're ready for the next step. Wind blows into the quinjet when Clint opens up the back and Quinn turns around, sure that SHIELD won't open fire. She watches as he aims, waits to calculate in the wind speed and other variables, and then lets the arrow fly.  

 

When she's absolutely certain that the arrow's hit its mark—because it always does when Clint's behind the bow—and hears Nick shout, " _Do not_ let her on this ship, Hill," she nods at Clint. They have to hurry before any SHIELD agents can actually make it onto the deck where they'll land. He then clicks a button on his bow and the turbine explodes immediately after. 

 

Obviously, SHIELD becomes a little more preoccupied with their blown engine so there's no resistance when they land. While she, Clint, and their team head toward a vent that'll lead to the innards of the helicarrier where there won't likely to be any people, she listens in on the conversations in her ear and reports them to Clint. "Tony's headed outside to fix the turbine, Natasha's with someone—either Banner or Thor, not clear which one. We both know Nick'll want to run the show from the bridge. You'll run into him and Maria. Steve's—" she waits and hears Steve's voice with an extremely loud background noise that she assumes is wind. "Steve's with Tony as backup probably.” 

 

Clint nods toward the men when they reach the vent and they step up to knock in the vent. One by one, they start to drop inside the helicarrier and, while they do, Clint looks at her and orders, "You take care of Rogers and Stark. Even if you weren't the only one with the best shot against them, I have better aim than you so I have to be the one to shoot the arrow—I wouldn't be too close to any edges when the systems go dark, by the way. I'll take half the team, you take the other, and we'll meet in the detention center." 

 

"Got it," she answers and drops down in the hole without the rope everyone else uses—she can handle the impact fine. "You're with me," she demands as she points off to the closest men next to her. "Two of you are headin' to Engine Three ahead of us. Watch out for Iron Man." As they dart down the hall, she tells the other two, "Us three, we're headed there too, but we have to take out every technician and mechanic on the way." 

 

\--- 

 

There are a trail of bodies with broken necks and bullet wounds behind them as they come up on the door that leads outside to the turbine that needs to be repaired. Before she's there, one of the two men she sent ahead is thrown back inside at the wall by a sharp piece of metal and knocked out. Over the roar of the wind, she can hear the other's loud screams that slowly fade away which means that he either fell or was thrown off the helicarrier. The two behind her rush up to head outside, but she throws up a closed fist to stop them the second before they're met by a semi-automatic storm. 

 

"Captain America is out there to back up Iron Man," she informs and looks over her shoulder at them. "I'm the only one who can deal with him. We won't be able to stop Iron Man now that he's inside that rotor, so you can either add more damage than he can repair or back me up to keep Captain America away from the red lever up there by him. If that ain't pulled then Iron Man'll be crushed to pieces once that rotor's back up to speed. Are we clear?" 

 

Both the men sound off with, "Yes, ma'am," but the screams are back at it inside her head and it's so loud that she almost doesn't hear the men respond to her. She's not supposed to let Tony be crushed to pieces—she's sworn over and over that she would take care of him—but she can't stop her body when it moves outside the door. It feels like there's a... _wall_ inside her head and someone pounds and pounds and screams to make her pay attention and stop, but she can't. 

 

Like she knew he would, the moment she's out on the platform and Steve spots her, he immediately freezes up. "Stark." She tilts her head to the side and watches Steve's every movement with sharp eyes—like a predator. "It's Quinn." She hears Tony make a confused noise and Steve practically shouts, "Quinn's out here!" 

 

"Well I can't do much from in here, now can I?" Tony screams back at him. "Stall her!" 

 

Quinn takes a few steps back and then sprints toward the jagged edge of the platform that she pushes off of to launch herself toward the one Steve's on. She grabs the other edge of the platform that he's on and drops one arm, making it look like she miscalculated and is having a hard time of pulling herself up. Steve's going to come and help her—he wouldn't risk losing her the same way he lost Bucky. While he darts over to grab her arm, she reaches into one of her pouches and pulls out a blade she always keeps on her. The second she has one foot on flat ground—kind of flat ground, anyway—she lashes out with the knife and he's quick enough to not get stabbed, but she does slice open his upper arm. 

 

"That's going to be a little hard to do," Steve informs Tony loudly and backs away from her while she stands to her feet. There's not that much room, so she can't use the knife anymore—too much of a struggle and they'd both tumble off into the clouds and die. "Please hurry," Steve begs Tony and puts his arms up warily, like that'll actually stop her. 

 

"This isn't something I can exactly do any faster," Tony snaps back. 

 

"Quinn," Steve starts weakly as she starts to slowly close in on him. "Please, listen to me—" From the other lower platform, one of her men shoots off a round at Steve and it knocks him off balance enough that he stumbles off the ledge. Quinn can't breathe for a second and almost stumbles herself when the other presence in her head practically throws itself at the invisible wall Loki's put up. Steve's quick enough to latch onto a wire that was loose. Quinn _could_ cut the wire, it would definitely take care of Steve if she did, but she doesn't need to. He's out of her way and so long as he's not in it, she doesn't have to kill him. So, she stands there and waits. 

 

"Cap, I need that lever now," Tony warns over the radio. 

 

Steve, who slowly starts to pull himself back up toward the platform, yells into the radio, "I need a minute here!" He should stay down there because _he's out of the way,_ but then how could he save Tony? The voice in her head is sobbing and screaming because what kind of a choice is picking between Steve or Tony? But she _can't do anything_. Steve makes it up and she has to kill him to make sure Tony won't fix the rotor or he keeps down there and Tony's shredded inside the rotor. 

 

"Lever! _Now_!" Tony shouts. 

 

The screams are so loud now that her head physically _hurts_. The pain takes her by surprise and she presses her hand to her temple as if that can ease the pain. Steve was closer than she thought because the second she takes to recover, he throws himself back on the platform and reaches up to pull the lever. Now she _has_ to kill him and if Tony makes it out of the rotor, she'll have to blow him out of the sky too. 

 

In her ear, she hears Natasha exclaim, "Cognitive recalibration." Steve throws himself at Quinn when she stalks toward him, blade in hand, and she grunts in surprise. The knife clatters from her hand and tumbles off the close ledge. She tries to throw a fist up at his head to knock him away, but he catches her wrist in a tight grip. So, she tries to buck him off her, but he bears his weight down to try and keep her still. "Hit Quinn really hard in the head," Natasha elaborates immediately after. 

 

Steve looks down at her, like the very idea of that pains him, and reels a clenched fist back. Before he tries to throw it down at her head, he whispers, "I'm sorry," but she tugs her wrist out of his grasp and catches his hand before it can connect with her head. She then wriggles around and throws her legs up so they can lock around his neck and slams him back down onto the platform. Now that she's straddling his upper body, he can't move much, and she reaches down to press her forearm against his neck so she can hold him down while she reaches for some kind of weapon in one of her pouches. The two of them stare into each other's eyes and she can see the fear and the pain and the screaming inside her head's so loud that she can hardly even hear anything else besides it.

 

While Steve tries to push her off, Tony screams over the radio, "Rogers, make sure you explicitly tell Quinn that this is your fault, not mine, but that I'm sorry anyway!" A red blur speeds straight at her and she tries to scramble to the side, but Steve catches her hips and keeps her there while Tony, in his suit, snatches her up by the shoulders. Her stomach drops as solid groups drops from underneath her feet too. She has no time to react because she's slammed back into a wall, the weight of Tony's armor crushing down on her, and she hits her head so hard that the world blacks out. 

 

\--- 

 

For a little while there, Quinn's not completely positive what's real and what's a dream. When she tries to move, her wrists are strapped down and she wonders if they're reinforced, but it probably wouldn't matter if they were or not since she's so out of it. After she makes a weak attempt to tear herself out of the restraints, she's almost positive she's in a dream because this is what she's dealt with the past few days under Loki's spell—strapped down inside her own damned head and unable to break free. _But_ unlike the time she's spent under Loki, Steve's with her the whole time. It's hard for her to focus too much on him, but he leans over her on the bed and cups her cheek, swipes his thumb across her sweat slick skin, reaches down to hold her hand while she squirms, and whispers over and over, " _I'm here, Quinn_." 

 

Quinn doesn't know how much time it takes—it honestly feels like it's been _years_ that she's been trapped inside her brain—but at some point, she settles and can finally focus. When she comes to, Steve hasn't moved from there beside her on the bed and his hand hasn't left hers, either. Maybe he realizes that she's not about to try and murder him a second time because he snaps open the restraints and reaches forward to brush hair away from her sweaty forehead, fingers lingering on the scar on her temple. Oh _God_ , she tried to kill Steve. She's the lowest of the low, no one could be lower than that. Scum of the earth, that's what she is. There's a circle in hell made special for her.

 

"Hey trouble," he greets quietly with a small, relieved smile. 

 

She drops her head back on the bed with a loud pained groan before she croaks out, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I don't think I've felt this shitty since the war when I drank Dum-Dum under the table."  

 

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. "Let's be honest here, Quinn, the only one between you two that was suffering the next day was Dum-Dum. For some little southern belle, you sure know how to take moonshine like a champ." 

 

"Pa raised me up the proper way then, yeah?" Before she closes her eyes, she stares at the slice in his uniform, the one that she put there. The cut's already healed, but she was so close to—to— _what kind of a person is she_? "I'm sorry," she whispers as if that simple sorry can make up for what she almost did to him, for what she did to everyone else. 

 

"No, Quinn, don't do that." He reaches back out to touch her face. The corners of her eyes water and she has to bite down on her bottom lip to hold back the tears. "Don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn't your fault," he adds and his face is so soft, so open, and she really, _really_ doesn't deserve this kind of kindness from him. Well, she's never deserved it, but she _especially_ doesn't deserve it now.

 

Quinn can't help but throw back a bitter, "It sure doesn't feel that way to me." Her voice cracks when she explains, "I...I was _there_ —in the back of my head, I mean. I knew that what I was doin' was terrible, but my body wouldn't _listen_. It wouldn't _stop_." She takes a deep breath and spits out, "I _killed people_ , Steve. I killed innocent people and the worst part is that I could handle that, but...I can't stand how I would've let Tony die inside that rotor. I tried to kill _you_. I wasn't—I was too weak to—" 

 

Steve practically shoves her over so that he can squeeze in beside her on the tiny bed and wrap her up in his arms. Jesus, it feels so nice to be with him. It feels like it's been another decade since she last saw him, since she was in his arms. "You were _brainwashed_. You had no choice." She clutches onto him desperately and he hits low with, "Would you blame your friend Barton for what he did with you?" 

 

"That isn't the same," she protests. "Clint's not a super soldier—" 

 

"Christ, you're hopeless," he interrupts. "Listen to me," he demands while he cups her cheek and makes her look him in the eye. "There's no difference between you and Barton. It doesn't matter if you're a super soldier or not. You couldn't punch your way out of his control and you damn well couldn't help what you did. You're not like Loki," he snarls the name but immediately calms down. "You didn't _want_ to do any of what you did." He leans forward and bumps his forehead to hers. "You're a good person." 

 

"Stop it," she mumbles while she wipes at her eyes and bumps him on the shoulder with her fist. "Stop bein' sweet to me." 

 

"One of these days, Hayden, you won't be so humble and admit that you're worth the world to me," he swears and she ducks her head so he won't see her red cheeks and make fun. He kisses her forehead and settles his chin on top of her head. "He tried to trick me, y'know—tried to make me think you were dead. He shoved Bucky in my face, too." 

 

Her lips press into a thin line and she presses closer to his chest when she confesses, “I know he did. Well, I knew he'd probably do that. I told him about you. He wanted to know where to hit so it'd really hurt.” 

 

"I didn't believe him for a second," Steve assures her. "I would've known if you did and I sure as hell wouldn't be here if I _did_ lose you." She frowns and opens her mouth to protest—because she shouldn't be worth that much to him, she's told him so before, many decades ago—but he silences her when presses his thumb between her brows to smooth away the wrinkle between them. "Besides, you're scrappy as hell—way too scrappy to die." She snorts and that makes him smile a little. "And I'm sure that if you did die, you'd raise hell in heaven to come back. You wouldn't let some asshole with a complex separate us when seventy years and some ice didn't." 

 

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, raisin' hell in heaven," she mumbles and leans forward so their noses touch and she laughs wetly at him. "I'm a saint, Rogers—an _angel_ , actually. If anyone's the troublemaker between us, it's you." 

 

Steve leans forward to brush his lips over hers. "I missed you," he breathes out and dishes out another kiss. "A lot," he admits and his kisses start to linger a little bit longer, get a lot deeper, and it takes her breath away. "So damn much," he stresses. 

 

While the two of them are lip-locked, Steve reaches a hand down to grab her hip hard and pulls her flush against him, and her breath hitches. Quinn's not sure they can be any closer than they already are but he wants to try and she isn't about to stop him. Actually, she wants _more_ of it—of _him_ , so she wraps a hand around his upper arm and starts to roll over onto her back and pull him with her so he's on top of her. She loops her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss, biting that plush bottom lip gently, soothing over it with her tongue. He settles between her thighs and her hands move down his back and when they reach that tiny waist of his, she grabs his hips and forces him to grind against her. He groans at the contact and presses down on top of her even more so that they're chest to chest. 

 

Finally, she pulls back and takes a second to breathe and the two of them look into each other's eyes. Unlike the last time they were this close, when she was about to kill him, his eyes are dark and hot. Warmth starts to settle low in her belly. "Steve," she starts slowly. "I think you should be the better person here and stop because I don't think I can," she warns breathlessly. "This is the absolute worst time to be thinking with our lizard brains, ain't it?" Yet, she brackets him in with her thighs so he really can't move. 

 

"Yeah," he agrees but she watches his pupils expand until the blue is nearly black. "Yeah, it probably is," he mutters and she can feel the hard line of him against her—especially when he starts to rock against her a little. "But I really don't wanna stop," he admits before he's back on her. 

 

Honest, she doesn't want to stop. The most intimate that Steve and her have been since he came back is the one make-out session. They've both been so preoccupied with...well, with the decades lost between them, with everything that Steve's lost since he went down, with helping him cope in the future, that they haven't focused on their sexy bits. Jesus, she wants him bad— _so damn bad_ , but some of her brain cells are still active up there in her head and she tugs her mouth back. Steve takes the chance to kiss down to her neck and suck at that one spot that she didn't even remember made her melt until he put some attention to it. Her toes curl and she moans, her nails digging into his hips.

 

"Okay," she pants out. "You don't have a rubber, do you?" Steve freezes and she can admit that she outright whines because reality sucks ass. "Sweetheart, I love you, but I'm not about to let you put a baby in me—not when the world's at stake, anyway." He groans loudly but it definitely isn't the sexy kind now. "I know," she agrees. "Bein' reasonable and practical ain't sexy one bit, is it?" 

 

"Not one bit," he complains but when he leans away so she can see his face, he has a crooked little smile, so he must not be too bent out of shape about the situation. "I love you," he whispers and leans back down to brush his lips over hers one more time—more sweet than hot. "And I'm not talkin' with my dick on this, okay?" 

 

Underneath him, she wiggles her hips and he's softening up, but he's still got a little bit of a chub going. "You sure about that, Rogers?" she asks through her laughter. 

 

Steve touches his forehead to hers and she immediately quiets when she sees the warmth of his eyes. "You're my whole heart," he declares. "You have my soul, too. I know neither of them are worth much, but they're yours all the same." 

 

"Steve—" she stops short and instead reaches out to cup his cheeks in her hands. She wishes that he didn't think so little of himself because to have that—to have his heart and soul...it's more than someone like her should have. Shit, they're peas in a pod, the two of them, with how they try to convince themselves they don't deserve nice shit, aren't they? So, she'll accept what he wants to offer and she'll hold it close to her heart and she'll make him see one day that he should have the world and more. "You know it's the exact same with me, don't you? This heart and soul of mine are as much yours as they are mine. I love you, Steve." 

 

When he smiles, it reminds her so much of why she used to think he was the sun. He puts a warmth in her that she hasn't had in so many years. Something died in her when she lost Bucky and him and a piece of that slowly starts to come back to life, crawls out of its grave like a flower blooming. "Like a mountain?" he checks. 

 

"Like a mountain," she confirms. 

 

\--- 

 

Time after time, the world's proven that it won't stop for Quinn or anyone else. No matter the pain that she's in at the time, how much she wishes it'd stop otherwise, it keeps on. So, unfortunately, she and Steve have to leave their self-imposed exile, head out of the little bubble they'd put themselves in for a little bit and back into reality—which, by the way, always loves to kick her in the ass as much as possible, it seems. Hell, it doesn't even wait until they're out of the room because, as she's about to walk out, Steve catches her by the arm and confesses, "I didn't want to tell you, but you deserve to know. Coulson— _Phil_ ," he quickly corrects. "He's—Loki killed him." He puts his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Quinn." 

 

Thankfully—or maybe not so thankfully, she's not sure—she's picked up the habit to prioritize shit over her emotions. It took a few decades for the lesson to stick, but she can do it now. She'll have to mourn Phil when she can and maybe that's not healthy, but she's furious—mad as hell that Loki's caused so much damn chaos in the few days he's been on the planet. She'll put her hand in his chest and see if he even has a damn heart and if he does, she'll make sure she rips it out, burns it, and pisses on the ashes. She'll make sure he suffers as much as possible before she puts him down. 

 

"Let us have a minute, yeah?" Quinn requests outside of the detention center where Tony's holed up in. Steve kisses her on the cheek before she heads past the door and slides in beside Tony. She elbows him in the ribs and murmurs, "Howdy, kiddo." 

 

"You know, if you didn't like me, all you had to do was say so. You didn't have to try and chop me up into little pieces inside a rotor to make your point." Her nose scrunches up in distaste at the bad line and he smiles at her briefly. "Guess I'd take you over Captain Sourpuss," he remarks and looks over his shoulder—maybe to see if Steve's there or not. "So, that's him, huh?" 

 

"That's him," she replies with a nod. 

 

He hums and then shakes his head. "I don't see it." She raises a brow at him and he elaborates with, "I don't know what you see in him. He's so—there's this stick up his ass. He's so serious and—" 

 

"Can I point out that, a week before now, Steve was in the forties? Bucky, who he's been with since they was practically babies, was alive. Oh, and I wasn't some...beefcake, either." Tony huffs and he's the same as Howard in how he doesn't like it when someone calls him out on his shit. "I think you'll see it eventually—why I love him." 

 

"After all this time? Really?" 

 

"Yeah, Tony," she breathes out. "You know better than anyone how hard I can love when I put my mind and heart to it. Besides, I think that...if you lose someone and you loved 'em hard, you don't ever stop—you learn to live without 'em, but it don't stop." Because she loves to make him break out in hives with emotions, she softly adds, "It ain't only romantic love that's like that, y'know. I'll love you until the end of time too, kiddo." 

 

"Gross." But then he throws an arm around her shoulders for almost a whole minute in a one-armed embrace. "I'm happy you're not dead. This place would suck without you." She's not sure if he means SHIELD or the world itself. "By the way, I plan to _never_ let you live this down. You were bested by Rudolph." 

 

Her eyes narrow at him. "Let's see someone shoot _you_ with an arrow and you not be distracted by that." 

 

"Excuses, Hayden," he tuts and then pauses for a minute before he asks, "I don't suppose you know what the next part of his diabolical plan is, do you?" 

 

"I never asked," she admits with a sigh. "I didn't need to know. I did what I was supposed to do and that's it. Soldiers don't—" 

 

"We're _not_ soldiers," Tony snarls which takes her by surprise. "Look, sorry, I didn't mean to get snippy. But I am _not_ marching to Fury's fife, okay?" He turns and squints at something close to them and when Quinn follows his gaze, he's staring at blood smeared on a nearby wall—Phil's blood. "He made it personal. Why'd he make it personal?" 

 

She cocks her head to the side and stares at him in confusion. The answer to his question seems like a simple one, but she answers anyway with, "I'm no Einstein and I was brainwashed at the time, but even I know it was to tear everyone apart. We're not much of a threat when we're runnin' around like chickens with our heads cut off." 

 

Tony has that look on his face—the one where he's deep inside his head but he's about to have some kind of a breakthrough. "He had to conquer his greed, but he knows he has to take us out to win, right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience." 

 

"Well, yeah," she replies slowly. Again, that seemed pretty obvious from the start. "You didn't notice that in Germany?" 

 

"Yeah, but that's just a preview. This is opening night. Loki's a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built in the skies with his name plastered—" he stops and she waits because she's pretty sure he finally had that breakthrough. "Son of a bitch." 

 

"Uh," she starts and ducks out of the way when he starts to storm past her toward the door. "Tony?" 

 

"Pony up, cowgirl," he shouts as he walks out the door and both Quinn and Steve—who's waited outside the detention center the whole time—blink after him. "Meet me at Stark Tower!" 

 

"Oh...'kay?" Then, it dawns on Quinn that Loki wants an audience and there's no better place to do that than at Stark Tower which—no offense meant to Tony, of course—is so in your face that it'd be a perfect spot to take over the world. "Oh!"  

 

"What happened?" Steve questions warily. 

 

"We know where Loki's headed," she explains. "C'mon, we have to see if Nat and Clint are okay to ship out." 

 

Steve quickly moves in front of her before she can head back toward where the personal quarters are and she rubs her nose from where she bumped into his hard chest. "Quinn," he whispers and reaches out to take her hands. "Are you sure you're okay to do this?" Her brows furrow. "Loki has an army behind him. This is a _war_ we're headed into." 

 

"Steve, I followed you into one war before, didn't I? And I was only a nurse then. Not only can I stand beside you now, but I can fight with you too." Quinn squeezes his hands and makes sure he can see how determined she is to do this. "Loki's made it personal and I'm not about to stop until I make sure he's put down." 

 

"I know." He chews on his bottom lip. "In the war, we never could keep you in London, no matter how hard we tried." 

 

"Like you said, I'm too stubborn to let anyone stand between me 'n you—even you." 

 

"I love you," he declares and he's said it to her already a bunch of times, but she'll never ever get tired of hearing him say it to her. 

 

Still, she's got her a reputation to keep, so Quinn grins at him and shoots back with, "I know." 

 

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles the tiniest bit. "C'mon, Han Solo, let's rally the troops." 


	16. 2011 - Part VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of New York begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinn is Thirsty and we can all relate to that, am I right or am I right? Also, enjoy the action. Much love to all of you. <3

It takes a whole lot more time than the lot of them can really afford to track down the room where they hauled Clint to come down from Loki's control. It doesn't surprise Quinn that Natasha's there in the room and since Quinn can hear water run in the little bathroom that's attached to each quarter and Clint isn't strapped down to a bed no more, he's sweated Loki out because Nat wouldn't let him run around otherwise. "Time to head on out," Quinn announces a little louder than she should, but it's so Clint can hear her over the water. 

 

Nat raises a brow at Quinn. "And where are we headed?" 

 

"We want to stop Loki before he busts open his portal? Then we need to leave now. We can explain where we're headed to on the way there. We've wasted more time than we can probably afford." The door to the bathroom opens up and Clint steps out, a towel in hand. "Hey, you can pilot one of them planes, can't you?" Steve, behind Quinn, touches her elbow to catch her attention and she looks over her shoulder at him. By the furrow of his brows, she knows he's worried about the state of Clint's head, so Quinn nods with confidence because she trusts both Nat and Clint. 

 

Clint doesn't seem to take Steve's wariness too much to heart. Rather, he answers Quinn with an easy, "I can work one, yeah, but I'm not so sure I'm authorized to do that." 

 

Quinn snorts at the idea that Clint thinks authorization is about to be a problem. " _Anyway_ ," she dismisses and both Nat and Clint snort at her reaction. "In case we're too late, I'd suit up now. Make sure you have a small arsenal in your pants and—y’know what? Y'all know the drill." 

 

"If we're really not authorized to do this then you two can meet us there. We won't attract so much attention in pairs," Steve explains before he steps back, out of the room, and Quinn moves to follow him. 

 

"Smart," Nat compliments and when Steve has his back turned, Nat winks at her. In response, Quinn rolls her eyes and the door slides shut behind her when she walks out. 

 

The walk to the bay where the planes are stashed is short, but Steve decides he wants to ask some questions on the way there because, as soon as they're not in earshot of the room anymore, he blurts, "Are they soulmates?" She shoots him a curious look and he elaborates, "Romanoff and Barton. I know it's probably none of my business, but I couldn't help but notice how...close they are. So, are they soulmates?" 

 

The question doesn't exactly take Quinn for that much of a loop because someone doesn't need to have the same level of smarts as Tony to see that Nat and Clint have a close relationship with each other. The answer to the question, however, is what stumps her—more than it should, anyway. "Yes," she decides on because, technically, that much is true. "But…it isn't how me and you are. They—" she stops and thinks a second. "It ain't romantic, is what I mean. Nat wasn't raised up in the nicest of places and some real bad people stole a lot from her. They are soulmates, but Nat can't ever love a person that way."  

 

"Oh," he murmurs and she understands how come he sounds so confused. Nowadays, it seems like a simple concept, but where she and Steve came from, a soulmate…is the future. They're it. You love them infinitely, endlessly. "I'm sorry to hear that," he quietly tells her and she watches his expression morph into one that must've been as sad as hers was when Nat explained what the Red Room did to her. "I was scared shitless when they told me about the serum—scared they'd take my love away. I don't know what I'd do if someone actually did take it from me." 

 

Before the two of them head inside the hangar bay, she reaches down to catch his hand and pull it up so she can kiss their entwined fingers. "Sap," she teases. 

 

"Before we head out there," Steve starts slowly and then leans forward to catch her lips. She smiles into the kiss and she's actually really, really relieved because…it doesn't taste like a goodbye this time—she'd never be able to completely forget the bitter taste his kiss the morning of their last attack on Hydra left on her lips. "I love you," he breathes out. 

 

Quinn laughs quietly. "I don't think I'd be able to forget with how much you've been remindin' me." 

 

"Well, I'm sure your memory's not the best anymore, what with you being in your nineties now." 

 

"Goddamn it. You're such an asshole." She leans up on her tiptoes and brushes her lips over his one more time, grinning crookedly while she does. "I love you, too." In the corner of her eye, she can see Nat and Clint coming up fast, so she leans back from him. She can't completely get her hands off him, so while she reaches up to smooth a thumb over his bottom lip, she innocently informs him, "By the way, you're not allowed to die on me before I've had the chance to ride you and that dick of yours within an inch of your life." 

 

Steve, cheeks quickly turning red, clears his throat and nods. "Understood, ma'am." When she shoots him a wicked smile, she can hear him gulp and it only turns her on even more. She's going to have so much fun with her fella when they make it out of this and she swears to God that they will make it out because she's not getting cock-blocked by some goddamned aliens. 

 

"Down girl," Nat purrs under her breath as she passes Quinn and Steve—who only turns redder at being caught in the middle of his and Quinn's serious sexual tension and he's adorable as hell. Steve tugs his helmet on and follows after Nat as she heads toward the nearest, easiest-to-steal plane. 

 

Clint, however, catches Quinn's upper arm before she can follow after them both. "Are you okay?" The question comes out of nowhere, so she's obviously confused, and he nods down toward her shoulder. "When I shot you in the shoulder," he clarifies. She knows exactly where he's headed and, sure enough, he blurts, "I'm sorry. Because of me, Loki got to you—" 

 

"Don't," she immediately shuts down and it's not to be mean, but it's because he doesn't need to dish out a sorry over what Loki made him do. "Even if I did blame you, and I _don't_ , we don't have time to do this now." To lighten up the mood—because they need all the humor they can get right now—she winks at him. "How 'bout we go put an arrow up this guy's ass, yeah?" 

 

"Not sure if you noticed, Quinn, but I'm pretty sure he's already got a huge stick up his ass already." 

 

She pouts. "Spoil sport." 

 

Clint pats her on the back out of sympathy. "I'll let you put an arrow in one eye and I'll take the other." 

 

"A man after my own heart," she sighs while putting a hand over her heart. 

 

 

Nat must've known that Clint wanted to talk with Quinn because she waits with Steve up ahead—thank God because Quinn's not sure what Nat would do on her own to whatever poor soul has to watch over the planes and try to stop them when they break down the metaphorical doors.  

 

Steve and Quinn take the lead and the four of them must be quite the sight to the poor kid that's on the plane. Quinn will hand it to the kid, he's brave, because he tries to tell them, "Hey, you guys aren't authorized to be in here." 

 

"Son," Steve interrupts. "Just don't." 

 

For extra measure, in case he tries to tattle, Quinn puts her hands on her hips and stares down the kid with a look that Ma would be proud of. "Do you know who I am?" The kid actually ducks his head in embarrassment but nods. "I helped make SHIELD when your granddaddy was probably still in diapers. Don't you tell me that I don't have no clearance." 

 

"Sorry, Doctor Hayden, ma'am," he squeaks before he darts to the side, around their little group, and skedaddles. 

 

"Overkill much?" 

 

Steve, however, looks absolutely, disgustingly in love and it makes Quinn blush, drop her eyes down, and push some hair behind her ear. A person would think she dropped down on a knee and proposed in the most romantic way possible rather than scare the piss out of some poor rookie. Lord, her soulmate is weird as hell—but it doesn't stop her from fucking loving him anyway. 

 

\--- 

 

"Anthony Edward Stark," Quinn barks over the radio as soon as Tony reveals his brilliantly idiotic plan to them. "Not to insult you or nothin', but not everyone is completely awestruck at the sound of your voice. Why, some people may even find it a little bit annoying. Also, not to bad mouth your skills here, but this asshole got the jump on me and I got decades more experience than you. You ain't gonna last a second with Loki—" 

 

"Firstly, if you ask Pep and Rhodey, I have exemplary stamina, thank you very much," Tony informs her curtly and it takes a whole lot for Quinn not to slam her forehead on a solid surface in frustration. How Pepper and Rhodey can live with Tony twenty-four seven, she'll never know. "Secondly, literally every word you said there was highly insulting to me." 

 

Quinn storms up to the front of the plane where Clint and Nat are behind the controls, leans down, and shoulders Nat out of the way for a second so Tony can hear Quinn loud and clear when she starts with, "For fuck's sake, listen to me—" she doesn't know how it's even possible over the radio, but she hears a honest to God click and reels back in shock and outrage. "Did—did that little shit just _hang up on me_?" Clint smartly doesn't fan the fires of Quinn's temper but Nat smirks a little and nods. The only reason Quinn doesn't slam her head on the control panel is because she's not in the mood for a plane crash today, thanks. "I'm gonna kill that asshole if Loki doesn't do it first," she mutters darkly. 

 

"Here I was sure you're the only person that could keep him in line," Steve comments when she stomps back to stand next to him in the back of the plane.  

 

She groans and scrubs a hand over her face. "I think the only people that can keep that boy in line are Pepper and Rhodey." He raises a brow. "They're who he's going steady with." Then, his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and now she's confused. "What? He didn't tell you?" 

 

"We didn't exactly get off on the best foot," Steve meekly admits. "He's really protective of you." 

 

"How's that relate to this at all?" 

 

"Remember when I told you that your family wouldn't like me because of the nosedive I took into the ice?" Her mouth snaps open, but he shakes his head and barrels on with, "I think some of it was because of Loki, too, and his scepter. Still, Stark made it clear he wasn't exactly impressed with me. I don't blame him, though. Weirdly, it kind of made me happy to know that you have some people on your six." 

 

Quinn's cheeks heat up and she grumbles, "Me and Tony are still havin' words." After a minute or two, she quietly explains, "I'm real honored to have him care about me as much as he does. I don't think I'm worth all the trouble, but I appreciate it anyway. It can be hard for Tony to let people in. For a long time, I think all he had was me 'n Pegs—well, his momma, but she was always out with Howard." She pauses. "I'm happy he got his head out of his ass and has Pepper and Rhodey now." 

 

"What are the chances?" Steve muses. "That you'd meet someone else with two marks—" 

 

"No marks," she corrects and he blinks in surprise "Not a one on any of 'em. Three of 'em just love each other a whole lot, is all it is." She shrugs and grins at the look on his face. "I said the world's went and changed a lot since our time, didn't I?" 

 

"Guess it has," he whispers, fingers brushing past hers for a moment. "More than I thought," he adds but his brows knit together. It worries her that he doesn't look all that relieved or happy. "Some things, though, haven't changed as much as I hoped they would." Her stomach twists itself in knots when he then questions, "You didn't know, did you? I want to believe you didn't, but...you said you've...changed and—" 

 

She reaches out to brush her hand over his upper arm. "Steve?" 

 

There's a real sour expression on his face, but then he shakes his head. "Nevermind. We don't need this kind of distraction right now, but," he pauses, "I think that, when this is all over, you should really start looking a little harder into what SHIELD's been up to over the years." No. If there's something that's concerning him that much, she wants to know about it now, but he chuckles and leans forward to kiss her forehead. "One fight at a time, Quinn." 

 

And she hates to admit it, but he's right, so she shuts her mouth. 

 

\--- 

 

So, Steve let Quinn have a simple rundown of what he'd learned while she was compromised which is that Loki wants to open a portal to space where there is an actual alien army on the other side, prepared to strike. General idea is that whoever handed the army over to Loki merely wants the Tesseract and will let Loki have the whole planet in return for the help. To her, it seems that what they should be more worried about is the person who dished out a _whole army_ only because he wanted a cube, but it's probably the best to stick to what they can deal with for the moment and that is to stop Loki. 

 

When they make it to Stark Tower, it becomes abundantly clear that they have a new priority...stop an alien invasion. In the distance, Quinn can see what she can only describe as a tear in the blue skies from which aliens pour out of. She can admit that she's really unnerved—can't even begin to think about how poor Steve must feel. She knows that she's met an alien before because Thor isn't technically from this world, but to see these aliens come out of a portal in space, to have actual visual confirmation that the universe got a whole fucking lot bigger sends her reeling. 

 

Explosions start to dot the skies where the aliens pour out, but Tony's no match for that many. "Stark, we're heading north east," Nat informs Tony over the radios while Clint moves the plane in that direction. They have a hell of a lot more ammo than his armor. Of course, if those aliens keep pouring out the way they are, they'll probably need an army. 

 

"What, did you stop for drive-thru?" Well, at least he hadn't lost the Stark snark. "Swing up Park, I'm gonna lay 'em out for you." The aliens are on some kind of hoverboards, but Tony has a whole lot more room to maneuver than them in his much tinier suit, so when he makes tight turns, some of the aliens can't keep up and immediately crash into a building. What aliens that're left on Tony's tail, Nat takes care of with their guns. 

 

Now that Tony has some room to breathe, Clint stears the plane upward, so that they can finally start to focus on the aliens that still pour out of the damn portal. "We need to close that damn thing," Quinn growls then blinks in surprise when they catch a peek of the two men on the balcony of Tony's tower. "Oh, hey, Thor made it out okay!" That, of course, immediately leads to confusion because, "Didn't Loki drop him thousands of feet in the air?" 

 

"Didn't Captain Rogers drop thousands of feet in the air?" Clint echoes and Quinn scowls at him, but he doesn't pay attention to her. Instead, he stops the plane in the middle of the air, where he has a clear shot of both Thor and Loki—who continue to duke it out with no notice of them in the plane. "Nat?" But he doesn't even need to ask because Nat's already aiming their weapons right at Loki which, yeah, Quinn would love to see the asshole blown to hell too, but... 

 

"No, no, no, no!" Quinn barks. "Revenge later, Barton! We need to focus on these goddamn—" she squawks in surprise when a blast from Loki's scepter catches one of their turbines and both she and Steve are thrown to the side by the sudden veer the plane takes. This is why seatbelts are so damn important. It also looks like Quinn's about to be in a crash whether she wants it or not. 

 

Steve's able to catch one of the rails above their heads and hold onto it while the plane takes a nosedive toward the street. He quickly reaches out to wrap a hand around her wrist, hold onto her the best he can. Good thing he has super strength because her dead weight sure as hell isn't helping him out a bit. 

 

None of them are in too bad shape when they stumble out of the plane which is nice because stepping out onto the street is near the same as when she's stepped out into war zones. Her attention immediately moves from the civilians who scream and scramble away from the chaos up to the portal when they hear an inhuman screech. What she can really only describe as a giant _worm_ makes its way out of the portal, surrounded by even more of the smaller aliens on their hoverboards. 

 

Quinn doesn't want to admit it, and she won't out loud, but their chances of actually winning—hell, making it out alive—are not looking so swell, they are dwindling. "Tony," she fumbles to say into the com, "are you seein' this, too?"  

 

"Seeing...still working on believing," Tony answers honestly. He doesn't seem to be having as hard a time as her in comprehending this because then he switches the conversation around completely with, "Where's Banner? Has he shown up yet?" 

 

Steve looks as confused as Quinn, so this isn't some chat she missed out on when she was brainwashed. "Banner?" 

 

"Just keep me posted," Tony orders before he's quiet and the four of them take that as the hint to focus on the streets while Tony takes care of the skies. If Doctor Banner _does_ show up and _does_ hulk out, that would definitely help them out a good-goddamn-lot. The Hulk is an army all on his own. 

 

They duck down behind an abandoned taxi because they'll need a plan of attack here. She opens her mouth but snaps it shut when some of those hoverboards jet past them and she spots a flash of gold amongst the dull aliens before explosions start up down the street. "Fuckin' Loki," she hisses as she stands up to watch the aliens. 

 

Everyone else stands up with her and Clint notices, "We got civilians trapped." 

 

It's obvious, what that means, but Steve decides to make it clear that, "They're fish in a barrel down there." Which means that someone has to head down there into the fray and try to come up with some kind of order...and she knows exactly who he thinks should do it. 

 

Quinn hates it, but she _has_ to let him do it. Steve, with his super soldier serum, has a better chance down there than all those innocent people combined. "I'll stay here. They need some kind of muscle to back 'em up," she mutters with a nod toward Clint and Nat. 

 

"Go. We got this. We can handle it," Nat assures. 

 

Steve, to Clint, asks, "Think you can hold them off?" 

 

"Captain," Clint starts with a smirk as he reaches back into his quiver and attaches one of his fancy explosive arrowheads, "it would be my genuine pleasure." He then shoots off an arrow toward the Chitauri while Nat starts to blast them away with her handguns. 

 

Before Steve heads down, Quinn snatches his wrist and clutches hard while she snarls, "Be careful, Rogers." He nods, expression somber and serious. Satisfied that he won't be too reckless, she lets him go. It definitely doesn't help her nerves that there's a line of explosions behind him that he barely misses. 

 

"I'll have a heart attack before this is over, I know it," she groans toward herself before she turns around and darts toward the taxi where Clint is. "Cover me," she shouts behind her at Clint and Nat before she hops over the front of the taxi. There's a bus that's chuck full of people and not only is there fire closing in on it on one side, but the aliens are on their way from the other side too. 

 

Let it be said that in the time she's spent in New York, she's learned that, despite their differences, New Yorkers look out for each other. The people aren't too out of their minds that they don't know the kids come first before anyone else. Doors must be stuck, so the adults carefully hold the kids out of the broken windows. 

 

"Wait right here behind me," she gently explains to each child as she sets them down on the ground. "You wait until you have your parents out here before you run off," she adds. They're all crying and tucking themselves behind Quinn. "I'll keep y'all safe," she reminds them. When there's no more kids left, she digs her fingers into the space between the door doors and tugs hard to make them open. They slide open without a struggle under her super strength. "Get as far away from here as you can and if you can't make it far then get into a secure building and stay away from the windows!" Quinn barks at the adults. 

 

Once the small group of people are successfully out of the way, Quinn darts back over to Clint and Nat who are still shooting off rounds at the Chitauri. She reaches down for her gun, takes aim, and starts to shoot any bastard that dares take a step toward them. 

 

Nat, almost _cheerfully_ , decalres, "Just like Budapest all over again!" Only Natasha Romanoff would think back and remember Budapest _fondly_. 

 

"You and I remember Budapest very differently," Clint replies and he's on the same wavelength as Quinn. 

 

"When this is over, we're gonna have a very serious talk about what gets your rocks off, Romanoff!" Suddenly—because her brain apparently decides it wants to choose _now_ of all times to not focus on the deadly alien invasion—she realizes that Steve and Nat are definitely going to hit it off. They'll love each other which is perfect, really, because what she needs are the reckless assholes in her life egging each other on. 

 

The damn Chitauri seem endless and she really shouldn't waste anymore ammo when it won't penetrate their armor. Quinn can't be perfect at everything, it wouldn't be fair to the world, so her aim isn't the best and she can't shoot them all directly in the head like Nat and Clint can and do. So, she decides the next best option would be to take one of those spear weapon things they have. After all, they're used in war to pack a punch, so they should obviously be able to hurt another Chitauri, right? 

 

Quinn hops up on the hood of a car and throws herself on one of the alien's shoulders. She lost her knife back on the helicarrier—she _has_ to carry more on her from now on—so she pulls out one of her medical scalpels. The scalpel be small, but when it's shoved into an eye socket and then into where a human jugular would be then it's definitely mighty. As the alien slumps to the ground, she proves her earlier theory about their weapons correct when she shoves the spear past the nearest Chitauri's armor, into its chest. 

 

"Quinn," Nat shouts from over her shoulder and Quinn turns to see Nat reach out. Quinn kicks at a nearby alien while she throws the spear to Nat who catches it and does her own deadly dance with the aliens. 

 

"Get your own," Quinn taunts and snatches back the spear from Natasha so she can stab another alien. She must accidentally hit a button because the spear releases a powerful blast of energy and strikes down an alien. "Whoa," she breathes out and swings it around, examining the spear. "Can I keep this?" She questions excitedly while she stabs another alien in the face. All the while, she searches for the damn button that releases the burst of energy.  

 

"Alien invasion now!" Clint ducks under the arm of an alien that tries to take a swing at him. As he slides on the ground toward Quinn and Nat, he twists his body around so he can put an arrow right in the alien’s back. “Souvenir ideas later! I would love to not die, thanks!” 

 

Aliens come and come and come at them some more and the sheer number of them starts to overwhelm even Quinn. Three aliens try to crowd them back, but Steve thankfully barrels into the aliens with his shield and then knocks back any other ones that come too close. Quinn beams at him briefly before she spears another alien in the face. Shots to the face can put anyone down for the count—alien or human, she's almost sure.  

 

An abnormal bolt of lightning crashes down from the skies, splinters off into individual cracks of electricity, and hits a group of aliens which puts them down for the count. Thor rides in after the bolt, hammer spinning and she's honestly not even going to try and understand the physics behind that. He can fly and that's all she needs to know.  

 

What does concern her immediately is how he stumbles back to lean on a car. “Hey!” She runs over to push a hand against his chest and her eyes roam over his body. “Hey, what's the matter? You hurt? I'm a doctor, I can help.” 

 

Thor chuckles, the sound a little strained. “A small wound, I assure you. I'll heal soon.” He clasps a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, shoots her a small, relieved smile. “I am happy to see you, Lady Quinn.” 

 

"Well, nice to know that you haven't lost your charm” she answers with an embarrassed laugh and ducks her head for a second to hide her pink cheeks.  

 

The rest of her small team heads over to meet up with her and Thor next to the car. Steve steps up beside Quinn and, to Thor, questions, "What's the story upstairs?" 

 

It's back to business when Thor's expression turns somber and the tiniest bit pissy. She'll have to chat with him later—if they live to later, anyway. “The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable.” 

 

“Thor’s right. We gotta deal with these guys first.” Quinn almost forgot about poor Tony. She hopes he's okay up there on his own. The suit only has so much power, even if that is his newest model. 

 

“How do we do this?” Nat asks.  

 

“As a team.” Quinn definitely can't talk about anyone and what turns them on because she really shouldn't love the way Steve can rally the troops as much as she does. Everyone accepts the order—easy as that. God, she feels as disgustingly in love as she did decades ago.

 

Thor's face twists even more and now he looks a bit petulant. She's not sure why until he mutters, "I have unfinished business with Loki." 

 

"Yeah, get in line," 

 

Okay, yeah, Clint has every reason to want to rip Loki a new one, but, "What did I tell you about revenge?" To both him and Thor, she tells them, "Save it for later. We have a whole lot more problems to worry about." 

 

Steve nods in agreement. "Loki's gonna keep this fight focused on us and that's what we need. Without him these things could run wild. We got Stark up top, he's gonna need us..." He tapers off when there's the distinct sound of a really loud motorbike and everyone turns to watch Doctor Banner head toward them. Quinn tries her best not to laugh because it's actually kind of funny but this is a very serious situation. 

 

"So, this all seems horrible," Banner remarks dryly. 

 

Quinn can't be sure what went down when the Hulk was on the helicarrier, but Nat must've been invovled somehow because she comments, "I've seen worse." 

 

"Sorry," he apologizes, almost sheepishly. 

 

Nat apparently won't hold whatever went down against him because she smiles a little and tells him, honestly, that, "No, we could use a little worse." 

 

Steve huffs in disbelief and says into the com, "Stark, we got him." 

 

"Banner?" 

 

"Just like you said." 

 

"Good. Tell him to suit up. I'm bringing the party to you." 

 

A few blocks from their position on the street, Quinn watches as Tony speeds around the corner fast, but behind him comes that damn Chitauri worm. It knocks off half a building on the turn with how huge it is. She covers her face and moans in irritation. "I am so happy that I wasn't around to see your college toga parties," she whines under her breath. 

 

"I...I don't see how that's a party," Nat says. 

 

"Doctor Banner," Steve speaks up but Banner is already headed _toward_ the worm, "now might be a good time for you to get angry." 

 

Banner glances over his shoulder and shoots them a bitter smile. "That's my secret, Captain. I'm always angry." The Hulk is supposed to be a monster, but the transformation from person to Hulk is...really gentle, it seems. His skin darkens to green and his whole body starts to slowly expand and grow until he towers over them. 

 

Quinn's only seen videos of what the Hulk can do, so she's never seen his power up until now when he punches that worm square in the nose—face—whatever. The worm makes that inhuman screeching noise as the rest of its body lifts up and starts to turn in on itself. She can barely hear Tony yell, "Hold on," before he shoots some rockets from him suit at the worm to try and push it back so it doesn't land on them. 

 

Thor is closest to Quinn whereas Nat is closest to Steve and she barely has time to react before Thor wraps a hand around the back of her neck, shoves her to his chest, and forces her to double over to avoid the fiery blast. He throws himself over her to block the heat and even puts his cape over her too. 

 

"Thanks," she breathes out when the worm tilts to the other side and crashes. Thor smiles briefly before he dramatically swings his hammer around and clenches the handle in his fist.  

 

The Chitauri clearly didn't expect the planet to put up a fight because they screech in anger at what the Hulk did to their worm. Tony lands on Quinn's other side and their whole team watches and hears the Chitauri screams echo across the area. The Hulk, pissed off, roars right back at them. 

 

"Guys," Nat warns and everyone looks up to watch as a few more of those damned worms comes through the portal, along with hundreds more individual soldiers on their hoverboards. 

 

"Call it, old timers," Tony wisecracks. 

 

"Alright, listen up," Steve starts without even a word or look toward Tony. "Until we can close that portal up there, we're gonna need containment. Quinn, you know mostly everyone here best. What's our strategy?" 

 

Quinn pauses a second to think about the best plan of action here. "Clint, you have the best eyes, so you need to be up top where you can watch the portal. Call out patterns, call out strays. Tony, you're the fly-boy here. Any of these bitches make it more than three blcoks out, I better see some fireworks." 

 

"Wanna give me a lift?" Clint tosses at Tony. 

 

"Right." Tony heads over to Clint and clenches a hand around the strap to Clint's quiver, she guesses. "Better clench up, Legolas." Quinn swears she sees a flash of discomfort on Clint's face before he and Tony blast off, up into the skies. 

 

Steve takes over, because he's actually seen Thor in action whereas Quinn hasn't. "Thor, you've gotta try and bottleneck that portal—slow them down. You've got the lightning, light the bastards up." Thor's hammer is already spinning before he nods and he's off. Only Steve, Quinn, Nat, and the Hulk are left. "Us three, we stay here on the ground, keep the fighting here." 

 

Only one person left, so Steve shouts, "And Hulk!" The Hulk looks over his shoulder and grins when Steve orders, "Smash." 

 

When the Hulk leaps toward a nearby building, smashing it and all the aliens that are clinging to the windows, Quinn realizes that their chances of survival and winning just got a hell of a lot better. 

 


	17. 2011 - Part VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she got Steve back, Quinn hoped the only time she'd be tired and aching would be in the bedroom-- _not_ fighting a bunch of aliens.

Despite the fact that her heart pounds the whole time and that she’s hopped up on one hell of an adrenaline rush, Quinn settles into a routine amidst the battle. A Chitauri rushes her, she shoves the pointy end of her new favorite weapon into whatever fleshy part of the alien she can reach, her eyes immediately snap to Steve and then to Natasha to make sure they’re both okay and haven’t died on her, and then she repeats the same process. She honestly has no idea how much time passes, but it has to be hours, she’s sure—but, hell, maybe not because adrenaline does funny shit to a person’s sense of the world and time. 

 

Now, there are some people out there who would love to think otherwise, but even a super soldier such as Quinn—and Steve now—can only run for a certain amount of time before the fuel starts to run low. Sure, it takes a whole lot more time before she actually does tire and it don’t take nearly as much time for the tank to fill back up, but she’s human, okay? So, the point is that, eventually, both her mind and her body start to exhaust and that makes her sloppy. More than once, Steve’s had to knock into an alien with his shield to cover her open back and a bullet or two of Nat’s have brushed her nose with how close an alien’s been to Quinn. 

 

But what’s started to happen more and more is that Quinn’s been knocked back on her ass by a sucker punch or boot or, a few times, a spear blast. Thank God for whatever scientist cooked up her uniform because she distinctly remembers those beams that literally obliterated soldiers back in the war. Anyway, it isn’t only Quinn that’s started to wear down in this battle because Quinn’s had to cover Steve’s back as much as he’s had to do hers and Nat can handle herself always, but some aliens start to corner her quicker than she can dance away, so they can’t cover one another’s asses as much anymore. Like now, for example, a Chitauri slams Natasha down onto the hood of a car and she takes it down with some of those nasty electric bites, but it pinned her down nonetheless and Steve and Quinn aren’t in much better positions. 

 

There’s a short reprieve where Natasha slowly walks over to both Steve and Quinn. While she huffs and puffs and recovers, she points out, “Guys, none of this is going to mean a damn thing if we can't close this portal." Which is accurate as hell because it seems like for every alien they take down, a dozen more pop up. Good Catholic boy Steve would be horrified to hear her say it, but the Chitauri are like…Catholic bunnies. 

 

Of course both Steve and Quinn have had that exact same idea, but the problem with what Nat said is that there’s no way to take out the portal. Tony blasted at it and she’s pretty sure that Thor took a whack at it, too, when he’d been up there with Loki. Steve points this out to Nat. "Our biggest guns couldn't touch it." 

 

Don't let anyone say otherwise—Natasha Romanoff is the sharpest tack out there. Maybe it’s the ballerina in her or more probably the fact that she’s been a spy since she was a kid, but she’s always been able to dance around problems so she can see them in a much different way than everyone else. "Well, maybe it's not about guns." 

 

As previously touched on, Quinn's brain has started to slow as much as her body—not even so much that. Since the start of the invasion, what’s ran the show are her instincts and there’s not much brainpower needed for that. Still, that’s not much of an excuse for how she doesn’t completely understand what it means when Natasha’s head swivels toward Stark Tower where the portal is. Steve, apparently, kind of understands what's on her mind because he tells her, "If you want up there, you're going to need a ride." 

 

“Got a ride,” Nat informs Steve and when Quinn notices the hover boards above them, which have been since the start—Tony behind them every now and then—it clicks, what Nat’s stupid plan is. "I could use a boost, though," she throws over her shoulder as she heads to the other side of the overpass they're on so she can have a head start. 

 

"No," Quinn shouts in horror. "You can make it up there a different way—" 

 

Steve _is as stupid as Natasha_ _is_ , Quinn realizes with horror, because he’s on the other side of the overpass, crouched down, shield a perfect tease for Natasha. The reason he understood her plan so quick is because it’s on the same level of reckless as some of his have been and he _loves_ stupid stunts. "Are you sure about this?" he checks but he _doesn't_ _actually_ _try to make her rethink the idea_. 

 

"Yeah, it's gonna be fun," Nat reassures herself. 

 

Quinn opens her mouth to protest since _someone_ has to be a responsible adult around here, but Nat sprints toward Steve. She hops on the shield and Steve uses it as a platform to launch her up into the air. Another hover board screeches past them and Nat's able to clutch onto the back of it and then she speeds away from Quinn and Steve, now on her own. 

 

Steve watches Natasha fly away with a little amazed smile and Quinn squints at him, face scrunched up. "Did you seriously throw one of my dear friends onto the back of some alien's scooter?" 

 

"She's the one that suggested it," he immediately defends himself. 

 

Oh God. Oh no. Quinn had been on the money earlier. Steve and Natasha are about to be the best of friends. Dear Lord in heaven, Quinn can see it now—her nerves are about to be shot to hell. She’ll die of a heart attack and she’d had to deal with Tony Stark since near birth which is a fuck-ton of stupid, mind you. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph _help her_. 

 

Steve’s eyes widen and there’s this panicked expression on his face. She has a moment where she praises God Himself because maybe she finally put the fear of God in Steve, but he reaches out for her and shouts, “Quinn, look out—” but it’s too late by then. One of the Chitauri slams into her from the side and they’re so close to the edge of the overpass and there’s enough momentum in the hit that it sends her right over. Instinct makes her try and grab a hold of something or someone for purchase, so she clutches onto the alien’s arm and he’s taken down with her. 

 

Quinn is lucky—or not so lucky, she’s not sure yet—in the fact that she’s able to land on the hood of a car rather than the middle of the street like the alien. The drop isn’t exactly too, too horrible, so she isn’t knocked out from the pain, but she did land so hard she put a dent in the car. Obviously, she hurts really, really bad. Somehow, the alien isn’t as stunned as she is and starts to recover, so she rolls onto her side with a pained moan and blasts it with her handgun as many times as she needs to before it’s down and out for the count. 

 

"Quinn!" Steve yells. 

 

At least _someone_ is worried about her because Tony merely snarks over the com, "Now isn't the time to fall and break a hip.” Admittedly, she does kind of appreciate it. He’s never held back his punches with her. 

 

Still, Quinn isn’t in the best of moods, so she scowls but that quickly turns into a wince as she turns to move off the car and stand back on her feet. “I hate you so much,” she wheezes. Then, she leans down to pick up the dead alien’s spear since the one she had is up by Steve. “I’m okay, by the way,” she adds dryly to Tony. “Thank you so, so much for the concern. Really, it warms my heart.” 

 

The last that she hears from Tony before he probably becomes too preoccupied with the aliens is, “Hey, look, all I’m saying is that I’ve already earned my _help a senior citizen_ merit badge with your boyfriend. I don’t have time to try for another one.” 

 

She puts her attention back to where it should be which is where _her_ battle is, down on the streets. Poor Steve’s probably about to have a panic attack since he technically had to see his other soulmate fall, so she looks up to assure him that she’s really okay, but he’s nowhere to be seen. For a brief second, she feels the same panic he did. “Steve?” 

 

"Tryin' to make my way down there to you," he grunts and, in the background, she can hear the distinct sound of his shield slam against whatever armor the Chitauri have on. "Stay put," he demands. 

 

Quinn's in the middle of, "Not sure if that's a possibility, partner," when a beam of blue energy slams into the car that her ass had recently put a dent in. The explosion that comes the next second has the force to put her back flat on her ass. When she tries to stumble to her feet, dazed as fuck, there’s a Chitauri to slam his boot square in the middle of her chest and kick her with so much force that she’s send back through the front window of a little store that’s directly behind her. 

 

Glass shatters around Quinn as she careens past the front window and her back crashes into a shelf which tumbles under her. Some poor people that're hidden out inside scream in terror, either at her or the alien or probably both. She'll hand it to the Chitauri bastard, he took her by surprise, but in her defense, no one's ever exactly prepared for an explosion. Oh, hey, look at that, she landed in the bathroom aisle.  

 

She snatches up a nearby bottle of nail polish remover, opens it, and then tosses it at the alien who closes in on her. A nice dose of acetone catches it in the eyes and it screeches in pain, stumbles back while it tries to wipe it off, and she takes the chance to blow the alien away. Honestly, she’s so damn tired that she tosses more chemical products outside the window, at the few Chitauri that’re left, and shoots off some rounds until there’s a spark. A woman’s bathroom can be a deadly, deadly place, she proves, when they burst into flames. Quinn takes a moment to bask in the nice, ol' fashioned alien barbecue. 

 

Quinn decides to take a breather and her head drops back onto the floor. Any part of her body that can ache? It _aches._ She's pretty sure that she hasn't had her ass handed to her this bad since probably when she faced down the Winter Soldier in the sixties. The time with Natasha doesn't count because the one who took the beat down had honestly been Nat and Quinn had been _shanked_. Jesus, she has a fucked up sense of pain tolerance—she should talk to someone about that. Well. She should talk to someone about a lot of her issues. Oh, speaking of which, she needs to talk to Steve about therapy at some point. 

 

An explosion in the distance reminds Quinn that she, unfortunately, can move and until the time comes that she can't anymore then that's when she can rest. With a moan of pain, she raises up and slowly staggers to her feet. The few people in the store are hidden behind the front counter and she should at least check on them before she heads back out into the fray. Yes, she’s very concerned. No, she doesn’t use it as an excuse to sort of hide out a little bit more before there’s more pain. 

 

"Y'all okay?" she calls out and holds her side when a sharp pain shoots under and across her skin. When she moves her hand away, the tips of her fingers are stained red. Oh, well _fuck_ , when did an alien have time to stab her? Huh, maybe that’s the actual reason that alien decided to try out for the team quarterback. "Sorry 'bout the mess. I acted on instinct there. I can pay you back." Ma and Pa raised her with manners, after all.  

 

A woman pokes her head up, over the counter, and stares at Quinn with wide eyes. She must be the owner because she blurts, "Miss Hayden, ma'am, your team saved my dad back in the war and you saved me—you can have whatever the fuck you want." 

 

"No shit?" Quinn squints at the woman, but it isn't a boast to say that she's saved a whole bunch of people, so she couldn't pinpoint who she may be related to. She’s served in more than one war, besides. "Thanks," she whispers and leans on the counter a second more. "Sorry about the blood, too," she mutters because she accidentally smears red across the counter.  

 

As she ducks her head to suck in some deep breaths, she notices that there happen to be a whole line of condom boxes there in front of her. A lot of people tend to steal them so, of course, they'd be in the front where the owner can keep an eye on them. The heat of battle is without a doubt the worst time to think with the lizard brain, but she can't help but wonder if she even has any condoms at home. Adrenaline rushes have always ramped up her sex drive for whatever reason. Damn it, when even was the last time she fucked another person? It was definitely Natasha after that shit-show with Tony's exposition? No, fuck, or was it Clint in New Mexico? 

  

"Whatever you want," the woman repeats quickly when she notices what has Quinn's attention all of a sudden. 

 

Quinn deduces that it's incredibly sad, exactly how much time has passed been since she was last laid, so obviously she doesn't have any condoms at home—if she even has a home anymore what with the alien invasion and all. Christ, she hopes Brooklyn makes it out okay, she loves the place. Hell, even if she did have any, they'd be expired. "Thank you _so much_ ," she breathes out and reaches down to take a few boxes. Some of the other people with the owner poke their heads up and Quinn's cheeks start to turn real, real red, she's sure. "Uh, celebration," she weakly explains to her sudden audience. "A, uh, lot of celebration," she lamely adds because she reaches down for a few more boxes and eyebrows start to raise. In her defense, she _knows_ her libido and remembers how Steve’s had been back in the war. Holy fuck, there's someone that can keep up with her now. 

 

"Whatever keeps you safe, ma'am," the owner shoots back while she sends sharp looks to everyone else that may or may not be judging Quinn. The other people slowly drop back down behind the counter underneath the owner's scowl. 

 

Over the radio, Clint warns, "Hey, Cap, Quinn, the bank on 42nd past Madison—they've cornered a lot of civilians in there. 

 

"Promise to come back when I have my wallet on me and there ain't some alien invasion on," she rushes to explain before she's headed out the door. Why she didn't walk out the busted window, she has no idea. "On my way," she tells Clint and Steve who, at the same time, says, "I'm on it." 

 

Behind her, she hears the woman scream, "For the love of God, don't worry about it!" 

 

 

Aforementioned bank that Clint told them about isn't too far from where Quinn ended up and she meets Steve out on the street by the entrance. "Quinn, oh my God," he breathes out and drops the shield so he can reach out and touch her face. As bloody and beat to hell as she must look, no wonder he’s worried. 

 

But also, "I've dealt with a lot worse." Steve doesn't want to hear that, if the scandalized look he shoots her is much of an indicator. So, she decides to move his focus back to where it's supposed to be and suggests, "Want to head in through the fire escape and ambush 'em?" 

 

There's not much more Steve can do other than concede, so the two of them head up the fire escape on the side of the bank. Before they head inside, she stops him because she can hear a—is that a beeping? Wait. _Fuck_. " _Shit_ ," she curses quietly and peeks in a broken window to see one of the aliens with some kind of blinking device in hand. "Oh _shit_ , that’s a bomb. They have a bomb." 

 

He doesn't even hesitate to dive past the broken window, into the bank, and tosses his shield at said bomb—well, at the alien who holds it and drops it as it's thrown back by the impact. As impetuous as he may be, she'll always follow Steve anywhere, so she heads in after him and dropkicks an alien that tries to rush him—she may want some payback after the whole store incident. She shoves her scepter under the faceplate it has on and then shoves it over the rail so it falls down in the middle of the crowd. 

 

Oops. “Sorry,” she shouts at the people below them.  

 

"Everyone clear out!" Steve orders the same people before a Chitauri wraps an arm around his neck from behind. The alien and Steve grapple with each other, the alien trying to sink its fingers into Steve's head so it can maybe snap his neck, but it ends up pulling his helmet off instead. Quinn doesn't even take a second to think—just picks up the shield that was dropped in the scuffle and slams it into the back of the alien's head. The alien roars but Steve, a sudden acrobat, flips over and one of the other aliens blasts its buddy rather than Steve.  

 

Because bombs and explosions have become a thing now, the device starts to beep a whole lot more rapidly and another alien scrabbles to grab it. She doesn't have time to react before Steve snatches her and the shield. She suddenly understands his idea and it’s awkward when two people try to curl behind the shield but she does try to put as much of her body behind it while the alien throws the bomb at them. 

 

When the bomb explodes, both Steve and Quinn are thrown back out the window they came in and _shocker!_ They slam onto the top of a damned car. Okay, correction, _Quinn_ lands on the car and Steve lands on top of her.  

 

And Quinn was sure she was in pain before? Ha. No way in hell. “Steve,” she croaks because maybe he hasn’t realized that _he’s still on top of Quinn_. “Steve, fuck, I love you, but you’re fat. Please move before I start to internally bleed.” From now on, the only way she ever wants him on top of her is in the sexy way. 

 

"Sorry," he squawks and flops off the car. All that grace he had in the bank is somehow lost because he lands flat on his face. "Shit, are you okay?" he whispers when he's back on his feet and reaches out to help her down to her feet. 

 

"I miss the days when cars weren't lined up and down the streets," she whines and takes a second to lean into him. His arms immediately move around her and she closes her eyes at his touch. It's definitely a welcome relief in this shit storm. "Thank God that alien took off your helmet. You looked awful." 

 

“Quinn,” he starts worriedly when she tries to move and only stumbles back into his arms. “Maybe you should sit the next round out—" she shoots him a sharp look and he frowns. "Hey, there are plenty of people around here that could use a doctor. Or you could help lead the people away from here. You’re really hurt.” 

 

"And I'll live," she grouses. "Give it a little bit and it'll heal up. Besides, as bad shape that I'm in, we can't afford to lose another player. I know I ain’t much, but we’re in the bottom of the ninth here, sweetheart.” She pats him on the shoulder sympathetically then nods toward the end of the street where there are explosions which means more aliens. 

 

\--- 

 

These damn Chitauri come and they come and they come some damn more and Quinn’s honestly not sure how much more any of them can hold out in this battle—Hulk included. All the power in the world won’t matter to them if the aliens continue to crawl out from under their space rocks like cockroaches. She’s desperate to ask for a verbal check-in from everyone because they could be dead and she wouldn’t even know, but she’s a little busy with having her ass handed to her to do that. 

 

Quinn’s now realized that decades of her work as a doctor has spoiled her absolutely rotten. Also, the retirement from SHIELD was a terrible, awful mistake. Hell, but who knows? Even if she kept on with SHIELD, she doesn’t know if that could’ve prepared her for now. Not once has she ever been pushed to her physical limits like she is now because her missions always dealt with normal, non-enhanced, Earth-born people. The last time she can actually remember such exhaustion is _maybe_ after the war, when she’d been so terrified to sleep alone without Steve and Bucky that she turned into a borderline insomniac—and that had actually been her choice, so. 

 

Steve and her, they never move too far from each other as they fend off the aliens. They pretty much spend the whole time back-to-back. For some people that haven’t been with each other in a war in decades, they actually run pretty smoothly. Most of the time, Steve defends with the shield and then she steps up to take a stab at the aliens. They’re both tired as shit, though, and they’re slowly having to defend rather than take up the offensive. 

 

Thor, at some point, must’ve realized that he could do more help down with them, in the battle. He can take them down as they come out of the portal until it closes, sure, but that’s not about to happen anytime soon, it seems. That won’t stop the Chitauri already down on the streets, though, and he hits pretty damn hard, so his power would be best down on the streets with them. He swoops down between her and Steve and bats the aliens away with his hammer like they’re…well, teeny cockroaches. 

 

In the midst of it, a blue blast comes out of nowhere and slams into Steve, a blow to the stomach so hard that he’s knocked flat on his face. It has to be bad since he doesn’t recover immediately. “Steve!” Since Thor covers them and throws his hammer into a car that rolls and tumbles and takes out every alien in the way, she has time to throw her spear down and bend down on a knee to check on Steve. She may be a little in love with Thor in that moment. 

 

When he turns around, Thor offers a hand to Steve and helps him stand back up while Quinn keeps a supportive hand on Steve’s elbow. “Are you ready for another bout?” Thor inquires to both Steve and Quinn. Thor’s enhanced, she knows, definitely has more power than even Steve, so she wonders if he’s even broken that much of a sweat. 

 

Steve—the master champ of sarcasm, sass, and all-around asshole-ery since he hit puberty, or so Bucky once told her, even if she’s pretty damn positive it’s been since the womb—drawls, "What? Are you getting sleepy?" 

 

Because Steve has inexplicably lost his manners, Quinn is about to start in on him with a very serious lecture on how to be nice to a teammate that saved your hide and how to thank someone the proper way. Natasha, however, interrupts Quinn when she shouts into their radio. “I can close it. Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down." And in that moment, she may as well be God who’s tore open the heavenly heavens— _not_ the space one—to rain the good gospel down on them. 

 

"Do it!" Both Steve and Quinn shout at the exact same time. If she sounds a little more desperate than authoritative, no one can blame her. 

 

"No, wait!" Tony, out of nowhere, shouts.  

 

There has to be some smart explanation to why Tony wouldn’t want them to close down the portal in which more and more aliens continue to spill out, she knows that—knows how Tony’s brain works. Steve, however, doesn’t know Tony as well as she does and decides to remind him that, “Stark, these things are still coming!" 

 

"I got a nuke coming in—" 

 

She's way too old for this. Holy hell, she's about to have an aneurysm and die from an overload of bullshit. Furious now, she screams, " _Who the fuck authorized a missile strike on New York City_?" Briefly, she remembers what Steve told her, about how she may need to look closer into what SHIELD's been up to, and her stomach drops. Nick could never possibly dish out this kind of order...could he? 

 

"Doesn't matter. It's gonna blow in less than a minute." As soon as he explains that, over Quinn, Steve, and Thor’s heads, he screeches past them. Like he told them, he's underneath an honest to God _bomb_. "And I know just where to put it." Slowly, he starts to push the bomb up at an angle, so the two of them head toward the portal. 

 

It takes a second to click, but then Quinn's heart leaps to her throat because that—the armor can't make it in space, can it? She don’t know too much about the physics of it all, but…if a nuke were to explode, even in the vacuum of space, and he’s even the tiniest bit too close, not even armor could protect him. Besides, that portal is a two-way street, isn't it? So, if the door closes one the Chitauri's side then there's no way he could possibly—oh God. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, _no_. 

 

“Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip,” Steve quietly warns and it’s almost the same as a kick to the teeth. She turns her head to stare at Steve and knows that her expression must be a mixture of desperation and despair. How could he do that? She won’t let them roll over and accept this as the sole option. There _has_ to be another way. 

 

"No," she snaps and her heart pounds for a whole reason other than adrenaline now. "No, Tony, you're a smart kid. I know you can—" 

 

"There's no time," Tony interrupts. With her curse of enhanced senses, she can see him close in on the entrance to the portal. Down on the streets, Quinn can do no more than watch as he basically speeds to death's door. "Tell me you wouldn't do this,” he shoots back and she wants to scream. “Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing." 

 

Steve’s hand brushes past her own and she moves her eyes to settle back on him. He watches her with sadness and sympathy. He laces their fingers together so that way she has someone to hold onto while this happens. She won’t be alone as she talks Tony to his death. "No, I wouldn't, and y’know why?” she shakily starts. “'Cause that bomb would've stopped when it took one look at my face." 

 

"Yeah, you’d definitely scare it shitless.” He pauses. “That's why you're the best, Aunt Quinn." If she could actually talk past her heartbreak, she would definitely tease him and ask if that was some secret code for, _I love you, Aunt Quinn_. 

 

Quinn…she must be cursed. There's no other possible explanation for the reason why she always has to be the last person to talk to the men she loves as they throw themselves away to death. She's not sure which is worse—to hear the horrible static once Steve touched down in the ice or to watch as Tony rises up, up, up until he disappears beyond the portal.  

 

The absolute worst part both times? The silence. Fuck, she hates the quiet. It seems like the whole stops when she can't see him anymore—or maybe it's only hers. Tony is there one second, vanishes the next, and she prays and hopes with her all that he'll come back, but…he doesn't. On the other side of the portal, they can see the explosion, and it reminds her of the sun, so big and bright and all-encompassing. Bitterly, she can't help but compare Tony to Icarus—no, that's not fair. It isn't pride that put Tony too close to the sun but rather it was her complacency. If she'd paid more attention to SHIELD, this never would've happened. 

 

One more time, Steve proves to be the leader she never can be. She'll never be able to make the call, she'd wait until the end of time if she had to, but Steve can and does make it. "Close it," he orders Natasha and squeezes her hand harder. 

 

The blue beam that connects Earth and space flickers as Natasha does whatever she needs to do to close it and then it disappears completely. Her vision starts to blur with tears and she reminds herself that this was bound to happen. She'd have to watch him die, anyway, whether it was when he was old or now, in a blaze of glory. Fuck, he'd prefer it this way, to leave the world in style. The reminder doesn't help—it never does. Loss never not hurts. 

 

"Son of a gun," Steve breathes out. 

 

A tear rolls down her cheek and she wipes it away as she looks over to Steve. His eyes haven't left the sky so she follows his gaze and sucks in a sharp breath. There, in the distance, she can see a familiar dot start to race back down toward the earth, getting bigger and bigger as he closes in, slowly turning into the shape of a man. Holy shit, he made it. _Tony made it._  

 

Then, there's a problem because she can't see his rockets on. It isn't only her that notices it. "He's not slowing down." Thor starts to swing his hammer around, getting some traction before he blasts off to go catch Tony, and, yeah, he's definitely one of her new favorite people now. So is the Hulk, too, since he's the one that launches across the sky to catch Tony mid-air and drop down so he's the one to take the impact  

 

The Hulk clambers to his feet after he deposits Tony onto the ground and Quinn practically sprints over to them, Steve and Thor behind her. She drops down on her knees, digs her fingers into the cracks of Tony's face mask and tugs, and then throws it away. Tony's eyes are closed and she leans her head down, next to his mouth, tries to listen for his breath, but there's _nothing_. 

 

"Is he breathing?" Steve quietly questions as he puts a hand on her shoulder. 

 

"No, but I'll make him," Quinn fumbles around for her pouches because she may have some adrenaline she could shoot him up with to jumpstart his heart. Before that, though, the Hulk suddenly roars so loud that it scares Quinn half to death while Tony's scared half to life apparently.  

 

Tony sucks in a loud breath and his gaze moves around wildly while he rambles, "What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me." He stares at her and she smiles fondly while she reaches out to touch his forehead since it'd be too awkward to touch his cheek. "Mouth kisses from the aunt are also super creepy. Seriously, no one kissed me, right?" 

 

Quinn manages to tease, even through her not-tears, "Hey, Hulk was real gentle with you" The Hulk roars and pounds a fist against his chest and she's not sure if that's a good thing or bad. "Sorry," she murmurs with a glance toward their not-so-jolly green giant and he huffs. Since he doesn't kill her, she guesses that he's cool with it. 

 

"We won," Steve announces. They did. Wow. Fuck. They _won_. No one's dead. The aliens dropped like flies the second the portal closed. Jesus tap-dancing Christ, they actually beat Loki and his Chitauri.  

 

It may be cheesy as hell, but Quinn turns to blink at Steve who smiles at Tony fondly—hey, they may just get along yet—and then reaches out to touch his shoulder so he'll look at her instead. The second he has his face turned to her, she leans forward and plants one on him. It's in front of God and everyone else, but she doesn't care. Quinn's alive and Steve's alive and they get to make their own rendition of that photo with the sailor and nurse on V-E Day. 

 

"All right, yay! Hurray. Good job, guys. You can stop making out now, thanks. It's creepy." Quinn leans back from Steve with pink cheeks and Steve stares at her like a lovesick dope. "Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just take a day. Hey, Quinn, have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I want to try it." 

 

"We’re not finished yet," Thor points out, sort of cryptic about it. She has no idea what he's on about. His head tilts toward Stark Tower and she remembers that, oh, they beat the Chitauri, but no one actually has Loki _who was the reason behind this whole fucking mess_. 

 

"And then shawarma after." 

 

\--- 

 

Quinn has to admit that the team must be a real looker to someone like Loki. The asshole puts up a front as he leans up on his elbow and, to Tony, says, "If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now." Quinn's so fed up and done with this horse-shit and pissed off at him that she drops her spear, reaches out to fist her hands in the lapel of his jacket, and slam her fist right into his nose. A fucking knuckle sandwich is all the asshole deserves. 

 

\--- 

 

Shawarma would've been a lot better if she hadn't almost slid out of her chair because she dozed off. 

 

\--- 

 

Brooklyn seems to have made it out of the alien invasion in one piece, thank God. No doubt that everyone is shook up in the wake of the chaos, but so is the rest of the world probably. On the way home—which she is extremely thankful she has left because she would've head back to SHIELD to rip off Loki’s balls otherwise—they see some brave souls out on the streets, cameras and phones raised to maybe catch some last minute action. She doesn't bother to yell out the window that the invasion is, thankfully, officially over—they'll hear the news about it eventually. All that there is left to do now is wait for the dust to settle before they pick up the pieces.  

 

“Tony's about to never let us live that down,” she realizes with an amused huff. “I don't think I can actually blame him, either. We fell asleep at the dinner table. We really are old as shit.” 

 

Steve turns his head to the side to stare at her with raised brows and the two of them blink at each other for a minute or so before they break down into a mess of giggles. “I hope he never has to feel what it's like to crash the way we do.” They laugh even more and he concedes with, “Okay, yeah, maybe we're a little old. But, hey, we _are_ in our nineties now. He should treat his elders with some respect and not call ‘em out that way.” 

 

"Y’know,” she starts as the SUV they had to have someone take them home in pulls up in front of her brownstone. “When I enlisted as a nurse, all those years back, I had no idea this is where the road would end up—me, in my fancy New York place, my beautiful trophy husband on my arm, and after we put a bunch of aliens in their place to boot.” They thank the driver and Steve, polite fella that he is, holds the door open for her. “If I could talk to myself then…well, I'd probably shoot now-me because past-me couldn't even start to comprehend this.” 

 

“Tell me about it,” Steve mutters and as soon as the door is closed, his arms are around her waist and he sighs happily. “Past-me was only a few weeks back, though.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck and she doesn't know why his pleased noises make her blush but they do. “I’d never regret this—never regret _you_. I wish Bucky could be here with us, but we have each other. That counts for something, doesn't it?” 

 

"Guess this is a bad time to mention that I found another fella in the middle of the invasion?” she teases and squeaks when he digs his fingers into that spot on her side that's ticklish. “Kiddin’, kiddin’, you drama queen.” After a few seconds, the grin on her face softens and she reaches up to touch his cheek softly. “Even with all the shit that I've seen in my years, in my wildest dreams I never believed I would ever have you back in my arms. I always waited for the call to come that they found your body, but when Nick told me you were alive—there's no words for what I felt. For years, even with Peggy, I always felt alone because there was no one else in the world like me. I was actually thinkin’ the other day and I think I finally understand why we're soulmates. We always find each other, don't we? Not even God can keep up apart.” 

 

"Yeah," he breathes out and knocks her hand away so he can lean down and push his face back into the crook of her neck. She can feel the smile slowly spread across his face. “But really—no words? That bad, huh?” 

 

Quinn has a flashback to when she’d had her arms looped around his neck, outside some Hydra base, and he’d asked her nearly the same question. Like then, she beams at him and replies with, “Fuckin’ horrible—you got no idea.” 

 

This time is a little different than that first time they kissed because Steve's a whole lot smoother than before, nowhere near as nervous. Unfortunately, her body's a traitor and when his lips hover over her own, she has to lean away so she can loudly yawn. She can't stop it and she quickly slaps her hand over her mouth, horrified. He doesn't take it too much to heart since he yawns right after. 

 

She rubs the back of her neck, cheeks probably red as an apple, she's so embarrassed with herself. "Yawns are contagious little fuckers," she offers sheepishly. "Even after that power nap, guess that I'm still tired as shit." 

 

Steve laughs and leans down to sweetly peck her on the lips. "I'm fuckin' exhausted, too." He reaches down to take her hand and starts to tug her back toward the bedroom. "How 'bout we sleep now and neck later?" 

 

Quinn makes him stop so that she can loop her arms around his neck and pull him down for another sugar sweet kiss. "Sounds like a hell of a plan, sugar." She almost cries out of pure joy when she realizes, "We got all the time in the world now." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> You thought there were gonna be sexy times, didn't you? I'm a dirty tease, I know. Don't worry, though! Your smutty smut times are in the next chapter! I love you guys so much!


	18. 2011 - Part IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Quinn take time to get reacquainted with one another intimately. 
> 
> They take a very, very, very long time to get reacquainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very rough week for the world. (Who the fuck am I kidding? This whole goddamn year has been rough for the world.) I didn't know how appropriate it was to post this, but I figure that maybe it'll make someone feel better. That's what I hope, anyway.  
> I promised y'all a sex marathon and by God I was gonna deliver it. This is literally 11.4k words of pure smut. I hope this makes up for how much time it took me to write this.  
> I love you guys and if you ever need someone to talk to then here's [ my personal Tumblr account](http://seraphicsteve.tumblr.com). Feel free to come talk to me.

Not that she’s about to head out into the world and broadcast this little tidbit of information, but should a person want to know when the best time to attack a super soldier is? When a super soldier is at their absolute most vulnerable? Yeah, it’d have to be after an especially hard mission—a mission that pushed them to their mental and physical limits. Crashes are a bitch, that’s for damn sure. Admittedly, the few times that she _has_ crashed, it was due more to the fact that she spent too much time awake with no sleep or didn’t eat near as much as she should’ve. As she’s said before, a mission where it’s a super soldier versus non-enhanced people is never too, too hard unless the enemy knows how to hit hard. But now? Now is not one of those times. Those Chitauri bastards pushed and pushed and it doesn’t help that she spent time under Loki’s control which didn’t allow her any kind of rest. And she knows for a fact that poor Steve hasn’t had decent rest since he came out of the ice, either.

 

Yesterday, when they made it home after the shit-storm, it never came to mind how bad their crash would be because her brain had started to break down the second she hit the door to her bedroom. Obviously, she especially didn’t think to warn anyone that she and Steve would be dead to the world. It’s when her cell phone’s non-stop vibrations on her drawers across the room kick her out of dreamland that she blearily realizes, hey, the invasion is now plastered all over the news and there are some people out there who care about Quinn and have no idea about whether she’s alive or dead.

 

Steve, however, seems to think that the worst problem is that someone’s concern woke them up and doesn’t seem to care one bit to let people know that they’re not dead since he reaches out to take Quinn’s pillow out from under her head. She squawks in surprise which he doesn’t mind because he chucks the pillow across the room at the dresser. For someone that lobs a shield around, a person would think he’d have better aim since he misses completely and her poor pillow tumbles to the floor _on the other side of the room_. To taunt him, her phone continues to vibrate and he moans in irritation then shoves his own pillow over his head. But now Quinn’s definitely madder than him. The asshole _took her pillow_ and this offense cannot stand. So, she kicks him off the bed. The squeak and thump that come afterward make her feel better about the whole situation.

 

Cranky as she may be, the fact that her cell phone even woke them up means that they’ve made it out of the worst of the crash. Of course, more sleep is always a plus in her book, so she’s not the happiest camper in the world at the moment. The both of them were so exhausted that she’s pretty sure they were asleep before their heads even hit the pillow. Jesus, they never even stopped to take showers. Even with all that in mind, Quinn has no idea it was _that bad_ until she spots the time of her phone. They were asleep for near _twelve hours_.

 

As she suspected, the people that’ve blown up her phone the past twelve hours are family and munchkins of the Commandos that text her since their ornery fathers—one Dum-Dum and one Gabe—won’t use cell phones themselves. To Tommy, Jackie, Thea, and Andy, she sends the text: _we’re not dead but we are tired as shit so skype you later_. She knows that they’ll pass on the information to Liam, Sophia, Josie, and Flo. To everyone else, who they also haven’t dropped the Steve bomb on yet, she sends: _there’s way too much to say in a text but yes it’s Steve and no we’re not dead_.

 

This time, she makes sure her cell phone is on complete silence. Then, she reaches down to pick up her abused pillow, stumbles back over to the bed, and drops forward on her face. After a second in which she’s situated her pillow back into position, she smushes her face into her pillow and sighs in sleepy content. When a certain someone _stares_ at her and she can’t not feel it, she peeks one eye open. Steve _pouts_ at her because he’s a pillow stealer _and_ a whiney baby.

 

"Don't steal my pillow next time," she informs primly while she closes her eyes and nuzzles her face back into the cool fabric of her pillow.

 

She can _hear_ the bitchy in his voice when he answers with, "Your loud, stupid pocket phone. Your pillow that I use to try and shut it up. Next time, turn off your phone before we fall asleep."

 

"Shut the fuck up,” she mutters but there’s no real heat to it since the fuzziness of sleep has started to wash over her head once more. Steve’s in the same boat as her—as in that he’s tired as shit, too—so he doesn't talk back.

 

Quiet settles back between them and they’re obviously not that sore at each other over the whole pillow predicament since they reach back out and wrap themselves up in one another before they drift back off to blessed, blessed sleep.

 

\---

 

Next time that Quinn wakes up, not only has the sun started to set but Steve’s started rut his half-hard cock against her ass. Somehow, she and Steve ended up as spoons while they were asleep and it doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, his dick is…well, a _dick_ and does what it does best which is get hard. She supposes this could be called his late afternoon wood— _ha_. The only reason Quinn is cranky this time she wakes up is because she’s reminded that she hasn’t fucked Steve in seventy years and she really, really, _really_ wants to fix that. Thank God that’s an easy fix to make now.

 

Quinn doesn’t think before she starts to grind back against Steve’s cock, match his sleepy movements, and that’ll definitely start to wake him up—she hopes, anyway, because she loves sleepy sex but sex where someone’s totally asleep on her borders on non-consensual and that makes her uncomfortable. And right on time, Steve moans filthily against the back of her neck. His warm breath fans out across her skin and she shivers then unconsciously clenches her thighs together. The sounds he makes, Lord have mercy on her soul.

 

“Oh my God,” he breathes out when what couple of brain cells that haven’t shot down to his dick fire on up there in his actual brain. “This is so much better to wake up to than your dumb phone,” he groans as he reaches down with one hand to grab her hip and use that as leverage to grind harder against her ass. His other hand snakes out from underneath her head on the pillow to fist in her hair and force her head further to the side so he can bite at her neck. The move’s unexpected and not that gentle and she can’t hold back the moan.

 

As much as she fucking loves that—trust her, she’s so hot for it, he has no idea—she needs her mouth on him _now_. She tugs her hair out of his grasp so she can roll over onto her other side and crush their lips together. Suddenly, he pulls his mouth away from hers and she whines before she tries to kiss him again. What can she say? He’s always been an amazing kisser when he doesn’t put too much of his brain into it. He laughs and fists her hair in his hand against while he leans back a bit to tug one of his gloves off with his teeth. It has to be one of the sexiest, smoothest moves she’s ever seen and she’d be scared one of the aliens switched places with him if she had any of her upstairs brain cells working anymore.

 

Maybe thirty seconds later, when he has a bare hand, he reaches down to start to unbuckle the belt on her uniform and _oh_. Okay, hell yes, she’s so on board for this. She moves to tear off her own gloves and the two of them spend a minute or two, moving back and forth between fumbling to unbuckle belts and kissing. Steve had the advantage of a head start and when he’s pushed her pants down over her ass, his hand immediately dips past her panties.

 

She’s not actually sure groans louder when he slide a finger inside her—Quinn or Steve. “Christ,” he hisses under his breath and moves closer to settle his mouth next to her ear. He nips at her earlobe and she sucks in a sharp breath when he whispers, “I forgot how wet you get, baby.” She's not ashamed to admit that she nearly sobs when he pulls his finger out of her and she's definitely not ashamed to admit that she almost dies on the spot when he reaches his hand up to lick the wet off his finger. “How amazing you taste.” Has she mentioned yet how much she appreciates it that he doesn’t stop to tease her too much? When his hand drops back down her body, he slides two fingers inside her, rather than the one, while he uses his thumb to circle her clit. “How burnin’ hot you are inside.”

 

“Steve,” she gasps because fuck her sideways, that was hotter than hell. She forgot the mouth he can have on him sometimes. Burning hot is a perfect description of what's happening inside her body when he talks that way. Shit, it’s been way too long since she’s felt this familiar burst of warmth. “Fuck me,” she whimpers more to herself than him. If she dies, she hopes they’ll put on her tombstone that it was because Steve Rogers ran that beautiful, perfect, sinful mouth of his. Also because of his dick. Yeah, they _definitely_ have to put that on there.

 

“Later,” he promises with a drawl and affectionately nuzzles his nose against her cheek as if he hasn’t started to slowly fuck her with his fingers. “Oh, baby, definitely later,” he purrs. This doesn’t really seem all that fair to her—how he’s reduced her to a puddle and he hasn’t even really gotten started yet.

 

However, let it be said that, even in bed, Quinn Hayden is not a competitive person. She can’t let Steve have the upper hand because where’s the fun in that? She tries to reach a hand down to wrap it around his cock, but she’s forced to stop when he quickly switches their positions. He manhandles her until she’s on her back and he’s on his knees and hunched over her. He uses his bulk to force her legs as far apart as they can go since she technically still has her pants on. It’s hard not to blush when she’s as spread open as she can be, but when he pushes three fingers back into her, places the heel of his hand so it rubs against her clit, and desperately frigs at her, she nearly screams. Her hands fly up to his shoulders and she grabs as tight as she can, nails digging into the thick material of his uniform.

 

“Yeah, baby,” he grunts and puts his free hand on the other side of her head to hold himself up as he leans down to start to lick and bite at the bare skin of her throat. Not only does he zero in on the spot on her neck that makes her toes curl alone, but he crooks his fingers and as soon as they rub against that spot inside her, she really does shout in pleasure. “Let me hear you, Quinn,” he demands.

 

The more Quinn speeds toward climax, the more she starts to curl in on herself, following along with the coiling feeling inside her. Steve said he wants to hear her, but she stops making any more noise at one point. All that comes out of her mouth afterward are the hitches in her breath, going higher and higher. On the precipice, her entire body locks up and she hopes the padding of his uniform makes her strong grip not hurt so much because she can't quite control the power behind it.

 

Every noise that she didn't make must've built up because when she comes, she damn near screams. Stars burst behind her eyelids and, fuck, it lasts—it really, really lasts. She clenched down on his shoulders so hard that when she uncurls her fingers and moves to cup his cheeks, her fingers actually hurt. God, she really hopes she didn't leave a mark.

 

Steve leans down to kiss her sweetly—a contradiction, really, to how he not even ten seconds ago was absolutely filthy, but she loves both sides of him equally. Their lips touch and her every nerve ending seems to be alive now. When he pulls his fingers out of her, brushing past some of the most sensitive nerves of her body, she gasps and shakes underneath him. Enhanced senses are a double-edged sword sometimes because a person _feels_ so much more than a normal person.

 

Quinn knows that she was a whole lot of distracted, but now that she's had hers, she zeroes in on his needs. He let her have a taste and she's been in the desert for years. She _has_ to have a taste. So, she reaches down to shove his pants down over his ass, enough to where she can reach his dick. The two of them are still lip-locked while she does it, but he has to put making out on hold to suck in a sharp breath when she cops a feel and squeezes his ass cheeks. Fuck, yes, she doesn't have the best attention span right now, but Lord have mercy does he have a perfect ass. If there’s not time later on for her to eat him out until he cries then she’ll make damn sure to set some time aside. Boy oh boy does she have plans for him.

 

In the meantime, to curb her suddenly ferocious appetite, she reaches down to wrap her hand around that pretty cock of his. “Goddamn, do you know how pretty you are, sugar?” she questions. He has to know that he's a fucking bombshell. She uses her free hand to reach up to his face and squeeze his cheeks together so his plush bottom lip sticks out even more than it already does. “Sweetheart,” she sighs happily and catches his lips in another filthy kiss. “You’re a walkin’ talkin’ wet dream, y’know that?” She swipes her thumb across the head of his cock, collects the bead of pre-come there, and reaches up to pop the digit into her mouth. He watches in rapt attention as she licks the pad of her thumb clean, being a little more dramatic than she maybe should be, but if he can’t take the heat now, he best run on out of the kitchen because she has so much more than this planned.

 

“Think you mean _you’re_ the wet dream here,” he retorts lowly before he snatches her wrist and shoves it down back to where he really wants her to be. Because she can’t help how much of an asshole she is, she puts up a fight and, now, he actually struggles against her. She grins wickedly and he moves to nip at her bottom lip, quietly begging, “Quinn, _please_. Do you know what it was like to watch you come? I need it so bad now. It hurts.”

 

“My poor baby boy,” she croons and wraps her hand back around his dick, squeezes hard the way he loved it back in the day, and pumps once. “This better?” Maybe it’s mean, but when she does start to stroke him, she moves slow—up and down, up and down—and twists on the upstroke. She loves to watch the little tremors in his body every time she moves her hand. It’s…a little sadistic probably. “No?” she teases when he shakes his head in response to her question.

 

Steve huffs in exasperation and then shudders and cries out because she snuck her other hand down and runs a finger down the crack of his ass. “ _Quinn_ ,” he snaps, not very appreciative of her teasing. He then _literally_ takes matters into his own hands. He covers her hand that's wrapped around him with his own hand and sighs in relief when he forces her to move quicker and faster up and down his cock.

 

“Greedy,” she tuts. He shoots her a scowl and she merely smirks crookedly while she squeezes her hand harder around him—so much that it _has_ to hurt a little but he doesn’t care. Hell, with the way he writhes and moans, he loves pain mixed in with the pleasure. Always been that way, her boy.

 

"Fuck," he curses and she decides that enough is enough. With his hand around hers, she quickens the pace and he moans in relief. “God, fuck, _yes."_ God, this is so hot. She's going to spontaneously combust. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he moans and the last curse stretches out when he finally comes. Warmth splashes across their entwined hands and now she's the one to never move her eyes away as it happens. It didn’t exactly take too much time, but hers didn’t either. This has built up since he came out of the ice—well, before, for her—so no one can blame them if they shoot off like rockets. This’ll make it so much better when he sticks it in her. “Oh fuck,” he curses one more time and then collapses on top of her to which she responds with an _oomph_.

 

After, as the two of them then proceed to lazily make out like a couple of kids, the post-orgasmic bliss slowly starts to trickle away. Actually, it’s eerily similar to her adrenaline crashes because she starts to notice all the little shit that makes her uncomfortable. There’s quickly cooling spunk on her hand that she subtlety tries to wipe away on his filthy uniform—hopefully that’ll clue someone in at SHIELD that the uniform is atrocious and that they need to scrap it. Also, unfortunately, she can now taste the alien invasion on his lips. The sweat she obviously wouldn't mind so much, but there's the dust and smoke and the tiniest hint of blood. The taste reminds her that they are both—her especially—in desperate need a shower.

"That kind of face doesn't help a man's ego, Quinn," he complains when he notices the sudden change in her attitude and leans away to look at her face and see what's up. She had no idea that her face had started to scrunch up.

"I'm sorry," she quickly apologizes with a laugh. "No, seriously, I am," she assures him when he starts to pout. "Just—well, you know exactly how I’ve been beat to hell and back. I’m dirty _everywhere_ and—” she smiles sheepishly. “All I’m wonderin' is if you'd maybe be interested in a shower with me?"

 

She’s not sure whether to be offended or turned on when he responds with a moan that she's never heard out of him before—one that should really be in a porno. “Oh Jesus, _yes_ , I'll take one with yah." Her offense-slash-turn-on is quickly replaced with affection. Goddamn it, she’s such a sap when she almost breaks out into tears at that stupid Brooklyn accent of his. In her defense, she's really, really missed it. "God bless hot water," her dork praises as he wraps a hand around her wrist and starts to haul her out of bed, out of the bedroom, and then toward the bathroom.

 

A quickie is apparently what Steve needed before he could start to romance her because as Quinn tries to turn on the shower, he plasters himself across her back and presses a tender kiss to the scar on her forehead. Here she thought _she_ was the sap. She has to duck her head to hide her smile. He continues to pepper kisses wherever he can reach while his hands start to wander, unable to choose a place to keep—he touches her shoulders, the place where her marks are hidden beneath fabric, clutches her hips. Finally, he decides to help her undress and start to unzip the top part of her uniform.

 

Quinn's a little shit, she can't help it. So, as he tries to strip her down, she bends over a whole lot more than she should to turn on the shower and crank up the heat. If her ass happens to grind against his still half-hard dick then oops. He doesn't take the bait completely—all he does is hum in response and grind back a little. He drags the zipper all the way down her back and spreads open the uniform so he can run a warm hand up her back. She can't hold back her moan and the delighted shiver that dances up her spine, along with the tips of his fingers.

 

Steve pushes off the top part of her uniform and Quinn has a sudden, terrible realization. This is the actual first time Steve will see her brand new body as a whole. Okay, technically, he's seen her in her bra and panties which doesn't hide too much more. Oh, and he obviously saw her pussy, but...that's not all of her, not really. Well, it's not what counts, she thinks. He hasn't seen the bunches of stretch marks hidden all over her body that come from how much she's beefed up over the years. Not to mention the muscles that caused those stretch marks. Fuck, why is she like this? This really shouldn't trip her out as much as it does. For God's sake, she wasn't the skinniest lady out there back in the war—but, back then, anyone skinny obviously didn't eat as much as they should've or was sickly. What she has is mostly muscle anyway, not fat—maybe that's the problem because she's not as...feminine as he remembers. There's not nearly as many curves as she had back in the war.

 

"Quinn?"

 

"Sorry," she blurts and tries to let her body relax. She'd tensed up and didn't even know it. "I'm—" she sucks with words and she doesn't want to ruin the mood that's been set already. She darts inside the shower stall and ducks underneath the spray of hot water. She angles her body so that it's only her ass he can see and then tilts her head back, runs a hand through her hair, and moans. The moan isn't forced—the water actually feels really fucking amazing—but she hopes she can pull off sexy enough to distract him.

 

No dice, though, since Steve's a smart cookie. " _Quinn_ ," he scolds. She doesn't look at him as he shuffles around to undress and doesn't turn when he slides in the stall after her. "You're the worst," he complains as he wraps his arms around her waist. "And you're really mean to try and distract a man that way."

 

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," she huffs in mock offense and reaches for some soap to lather her hands up with. Then, she proceeds to run her soapy hands across her clavicle, down to her tits.

 

Steve growls in frustration and drops his face into the crook of her neck for a second. "Like I said, you're the worst." He leans away to collect her hair to move it over her other shoulder and presses a lingering kiss on her skin. "You got no reason to hide from me, okay?" Maybe he was taking a guess, but the automatic tensing of her body must give it away. "Your marks, your scars, your body? I love it all. You oughta know that by now."

Quinn slowly releases the breath she didn't know she sucked in and turns around so she can see him, face-to-face. "Stop being so sweet to me," she grouses but there's a meek smile on her lips now. "I asked you to shower with me 'cause I wanted to seduce you, not end up with cavities, Lord."

He barks out a laugh. "Please, by all means," he waves a hand toward her, shoulders still shaking with laughter. "Seduce away,"

"Moment's ruined, Rogers," she tosses back but splays her hands across his chest and runs them up to wrap around his shoulders. She reaches up to card one hand through his hair and use the other to lightly scratch her nails against the nape of his neck. She remembers that he's a sucker for that trick.

He groans at her touch and she can feel him at full attention down in the jut of her hip. "Can't have that," he replies, voice low. Their eyes lock and she watches as his pupils start to blow out. She pays a lot more attention to his physical reactions now. It's a kind of addiction, really. "What can I do to get things going again?" As he asks her that, he quickly reaches down to grab her ass and hike her up against the cold shower wall.

 

Her legs automatically wrap around his waist and she squeaks because there's the ice cold tile at her back and Steve's warm body pressed up against the front of her. Also, why the fuck does she love to be manhandled so much? "I'll tell you what, that's a real nice start," she admits and can't keep the shiver out of her voice. She's not sure if the tremor is there because of the temperature or because of how turned on she is again. "But now that I think 'bout it, this won't exactly make us any cleaner."

 

Steve huffs in amusement. "Best kinda way to get dirty, isn't it?"

 

"Yeah," she agrees. "But we could also clean up _and_ mess around, y'know." She reaches to the side to snatch up her body wash and shake it in his direction. "And hey, this smells like the woods. That brings back some nice memories, don't it?"

 

"You mean all the times we _couldn't_ fuck because my suit was too hard to get off?" he retorts dryly.

 

"Don't complain. You still ended up gettin' off." She wriggles around so he'll get the hint to put her back on her feet and he does, grumbling under his breath. "C'mon, admit it. You know it was a little bit fun."

 

His cheeks turn the cutest shade of pink. "Maybe for you," he mutters. "You weren't the one that came in your pants like a teenager in front of your soulmate."

 

She leans up on her toes to kiss the tip of his nose. "I took it as a compliment, if that makes yah feel any better." He wrinkles his nose and she laughs. "Besides, I shot off like a bottle rocket not even twenty minutes ago. All that says is that the both of us have amazing skills in bed.”

 

"Oh yeah, _that's_ what it is—" he squawks in surprise when she dribbles some of her body wash onto his chest. "Jesus, watch it, Quinn. That's cold as shit," he complains. She rolls her eyes and his gaze narrows. He snatches the bottle from her and then squirts some of it onto her clavicle, but since she sees it coming, she doesn't make a peep. Her lack of a reaction only makes him sulk more.

 

"Did you used to be this much of a baby? 'Cause I distinctly remember—" she stops to think for a second. "Oh. Yeah, you _was_ a baby. Whenever you was around the Commandos, anyway. I swear it felt like I had to babysit a bunch of kids."

 

Steve's a petty little fucker. He doesn't take too kindly to her teases. Eyes narrowed, he shoots back at her, "Did you used to be this much of an asshole?" The look he levels her with is completely serious and she lasts maybe a minute before she busts out into giggles. Then, after a few seconds of her laughing her ass off, he breaks and follows suit.

 

"I love you," she breathes out when she can talk straight again. She can’t stop the tender expression that breaks out on her face and it makes his laughter fades while he looks at her with as much warmth as she does him. "A lot," she adds quieter than before.

 

Sweetly, he leans down to peck her on the cheek. "I love you too." He peppers kisses across her cheeks, nose, forehead, eyelids, and lips. It makes her beam up at him. "You're my heart 'n soul."

 

If there'll ever be a time when he doesn't make her heart melt, she doesn't know—and she honestly doesn't want to find out. "You know you're mine, too." But didn't she have some kind of a plan? Oh. Wait. Yeah, she did. Her plan had been to put her hands all over him and then suck his dick. "Are you sure that ain't your dick talkin', though?" She inquires innocently as she runs a hand through the body wash she drizzled over his chest. If her nails happen to scratch his nipples a little bit then that's definitely not on purpose.

 

Steve moans at the sensation and shivers. "Maybe a little bit," he jokes breathlessly. "But I'm pretty sure it's not only me whose dick is talking here." She splays her hands back out over his fantastic tits and forces him to turn around so he's the one with his back to the wall now. "Pussy, in your case," he corrects with another shiver.

 

Quinn hums but her mind's not focused on his mouth—this may be the only time she would ever say something like that, by the way. Water and soap cascade down that glorious chest and her eyes follow every movement. She follows with her hands, too. She scrapes her nails across his skin—down his pecs that may as well be tits, down to those abs Ma could've used as a washboard, down the light dusting of hair leading down to his cock. Down, down, down her hand moves, and it's funny because down is exactly where she wants her mouth to be.

 

"Baby boy," she breathes out as he mewls under every move of her hand. "You're perfect for me. So good to me," she coos. As she leans up to catch his lips in a hard kiss, his hands move to wrap around her waist, but she grabs them and forces them back against the wall. “No, no, no,” she protests and he grins while playfully trying to tug his hands out of hers. “Let me treat you nice, okay? Let me love on you a little bit, why don’t yah?”

 

"All you wanna do is be a goddamn tease."

 

"Steven Grant Rogers," she gasps in mock offense and dramatically puts a hand over her heart while the other slides down to wrap around his nice, hard cock. She tugs once then stops and he whines. "I would _never_." His mouth opens—to complain, probably—but snaps shut when she slowly moves down to her knees in front of him. “You were sayin’?”

 

He runs his hand through her wet hair. “You’re still a tease.”

 

Quinn leans forward so that her breath ghosts over the tip of his cock. “My mouth is right here by your dick. You wanna talk some more shit?” She licks a very tempting bead of pre-come off the tip and he sucks in a shaky breath. “Or you want to shut up and let me suck you off?” He doesn’t say a word which is the best answer. She licks at the head of his cock like it’s her favorite piece of candy and moans because, “Fuck, I really missed your dick.”

 

The hand that he has in her hair tightens when she wraps her lips around the head and sucks. “And here I was sure you missed me all this time ‘cause you loved me,” he laughs breathlessly.

 

She leans away only so she can move down and lick from the base of his shaft all the way back to the head. Looking innocent as can be, she offers, “I love your dick?” The innocent flies out the window, of course, when she finally takes him into her mouth and moves down as much as she can. What won’t fit in her mouth—looks like she’ll have to practice deep-throating now—she wraps a hand around. As she does this, her eyes stay locked with his the whole time.

 

Steve throws his head back against the tile and he fists her hair so tight that it borders on pain. “Oh my God. Am I allowed to say how much I missed your mouth?”

 

There’s a filthy pop when she leans away. “You can,” she hums and chuckles darkly immediately after. “But I can promise you that you’ll love my pussy a lot more.”

 

“Fuck, Quinn, I forgot about your filthy fuckin’ mouth.” His voice suddenly pitches up because she sucks him back down. “Goddamn it, please tell me that you have a Johnny around here somewhere? Somewhere that hopefully isn’t too far away?”

 

“In my uniform, actually,” which is thankfully on the bathroom floor. He stares at her incredulously and she uses her hand to slowly stroke him while she defends herself. “I didn’t have any and I doubt there’d be any open stores around here to pick some up after we made it through the invasion.” His mouth opens and she squeezes the base of his dick in warning. “Remember what I said before? About how talkin’ shit won’t do much for my sex drive?”

 

“Then put my mouth to better use,” he challenges with half-lidded eyes. She opens her mouth to protest—because she really has missed sucking his dick—but he reaches down to haul her by her upper arms up onto her feet. “I got to get my mouth on you, okay?” He husks and quickly spins them around so she’s back against the shower wall. “Let me?”

 

Quinn makes to think about it for a second, like she’s not dripping wet from him begging to taste her. “If you’re gonna pull my leg about it—” the second permission is out of her mouth, he hikes her up against the wall, and she yelps in surprise. Because he has her up, her tits are in his line of sights and he immediately latches a mouth around one of her nipples. He thumbs at her other nipple with his free hand and pins her to the wall with his groin, so his hard cock rubs is tauntingly close to her pussy. “Good boy,” she praises.

 

It probably shouldn't turn her on as much as it does when he drops down to his knees and manhandles her so her legs are thrown over his shoulders, but it does. And _fuck_ , the second he has his mouth on her, she hopes she can last a little bit longer than before but she knows she won’t. He slides two fingers inside her to start to stretch her open for his cock later on and starts to fuck her with them. While he does that, he moves back and forth between licking into her beside his fingers and nursing gently at her clit. It definitely doesn’t help her case when he moans like a whore the whole time from the taste of her and the vibrations send waves of pleasure rolling across her body. Steve, her sweet boy, how did she forget about how much he loves to please, how much he loves to have something in his mouth. He was born to suck dick and eat pussy. He’s so, so perfect on his knees and she might actually cry real tears.

 

“Stop, stop, stop,” she orders and pushes at his shoulders when she gets way too damn close to coming. She really doesn’t want to be bordering too sensitive when she has him inside her. She _could_ handle it, if she wanted to, but she doesn't want to focus on that the whole time instead of the fact that he’ll be filling that ache inside her. "C'mere you," she murmurs and practically tugs him up by his ears so she can plant one on him and he smiles against her lips. "My ol' trusty hand or dildo can't compare to that mouth of yours, y'know that?"

 

Steve cracks up and through his laughter replies, "You're welcome?" He reaches over to turn off the shower which is fine because the water started to run cold, anyway. He wraps his arms around her and she thinks he wants to be sweet on her, but with a smirk, he warns her, "Hope you have more in you than that. I'm not done with you yet, Hayden."

 

A shiver of delight runs down her spine and she subtly clenches her thighs together. How she's not dripping by now, she doesn't know. Still, she's not about to let him get the drop on her like that. “Unlike some people who still have a refractory period—as little as it may be—I can run all night long, thanks,” she primly informs him.

Steve hums and she has to quickly wrap her arms around his shoulders when he whirls around with her in his arms and heads out of the bathroom, carrying her back to bed. “You talk big. Hope you can back it up. We’ll be testing that theory of yours—sooner than later, I hope.” She has no idea where this sudden…dominance came from and she's sure as hell not about to complain. Holy fuck, she's so turned on. If he ordered her to come now, without any help, by his voice alone, she probably could.

Even knowing that, though, she'll still challenge him because she's...well, _her_. “I managed to snatch a decent amount of rubbers, sweetheart, but I don't think it's _that_ many—as many as you'll need if you wanna try and take me on.”

"And they say I got a fat ego.” Then, he up and chucks her onto the bed and she can't hold back the squeak-slash-squawk that comes out of her mouth. Damn, she’s one real suave mother fucker, isn’t she? “Be back in a second,” he drawls and he's smooth as hell when he turns around to saunter out of the bedroom because damn. Just…damn. Her mouth is watering. That boy has an ass that she would absolutely love to sink her teeth into. Seriously, she _has_ to set aside some time to eat him out.

Quinn moves up to her knees when Steve walks back into the room with a couple of the condom packets from her uniform. She reaches out to loop her arms around his shoulders, pull his mouth down to hers, and tugs hard so she drops back onto the mattress with him on top of her. When he drapes his body over hers, she sighs in pleasure—and she also realizes that she maybe should’ve opened a window or something because their combined body heat is going to definitely make the room stuffy real damn quick.

 

One more time, she kisses him dirty and hard before she leans away to breathe out, "Steve, I fuckin' love you, okay? There's nothin' more that I wanna do than woo you and be romantic." That's definitely what he deserves. _But_ , "I do plan to do that, by the way. I'll romance the fuck outta you...only _after_ I've rode that dick of yours."

 

"Romantic," he comments with a chuckle.

 

"Shut up," she grumbles. Then, because it's as good a time as any, she reminds him, "And remember that I have a super soldier serum now. So, you don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass. I can take whatever you can dish out."

 

His whole expression softens. “I’ve never thought you were made of glass, Quinn,” he argues gently. Then, he drops his forehead down to press it against hers. "All I want to do is treat you the way you oughta be. You know how much you mean to me."

 

Lord, they're the two of them a couple of saps. “Okay,” she sort of concedes. She can understand where he's coming from. In her opinion, he's someone that should be treated with all the care and tenderness in the world, too. “But I…” She clears her throat and he moves away to stare at her with furrowed brows. “All these years, I learned what it was like for you. I've had to be careful with anyone I've been intimate with. I especially get why you didn't ever want me or Bucky to ever hold back on you. I—” she squirms a little but finally manages, “I don't want you to hold back, either. We can fuck like an old married couple later, ‘course, but for now…please—”

Steve catches her lips in a bruising kiss, an easy way to shut her up. “Then why don't you take over?” he suggests. “Show me exactly what you want, how you want it.” He presses her further down into the mattress but it’s only so he can force them to roll over and switch positions.

Quinn, on top of him now, decides that she can without a doubt work with this. “God, how have I lasted all this time without you?” she whispers and reaches down to tug him up so he's in a sitting position. He cups her cheeks in his hands and she has yet another flashback to the first time he was ever inside her. Their position had been almost identical to what it is now and they'd been slow and gentle then, hadn’t they? Of course, there is one less body in the room now and that reminds her that she wants to make love to him, of course she does, but they've almost lost each other multiple times since he came out of the ice and she just fucking wants him. They somehow made it back to each other, after all the loss and the pain and the death, and she’ll sink her love into every atom in his body so that the universe itself will know that he is hers and she is his.

“Steve,” she whispers but stops because she’s not sure there’s much else to say. So, she acts instead—always been what she does best—and reaches over to pick up the condom packet. Black nearly swallows up the blue of his eyes as he watches her rip it open with her teeth and when he’s really turned on, he always worries his bottom lip with his teeth which is exactly what he does as she rolls the condom over his cock.

 

They never take their eyes off each other for a second. As she bumps her forehead to his, she grabs his hands and moves them to curl around her hips. “Don’t hold back,” she demands and her mouth brushes across his. “Hold on as hard as you possibly can—”

 

“You’re a prime catch,” he interrupts with a whisper. He squeezes her hips so hard she’ll know it’ll leave bruises after and she moans louder than she maybe should. “I won’t _ever_ let you go again—trust me.”

 

She’s _shaking_ with how bad she needs him inside her right now and there’s finally nothing else that stands in her way—well, other than her slow ass. “I love you,” she repeats. She can’t ever possibly say that enough to him, not after having lost him not once and almost a second time. “Steve, I love you.”

 

“I know. Baby, I know. God, I fucking love you, too. You’re my heart and soul, Quinn,” he manages between desperate, heated kisses.

 

The only time her eyes ever leave his is when she throws her head back and gasps loudly after she finally sinks down onto him. His head drops down against her collarbone and his nails dig into her hip. She laces her hands around the back of his neck and keeps him there, head pillowed between her tits. She drops her head forward and presses her nose into the top of his head. Then, almost automatically, they move to curl their arms around each other and she doesn’t mind because he’s still holding onto her. They’ll never let go of one another again—not even if God himself tried to get in between them.

 

It's been a long, long time.

This is no way an insult to any of the people she’s slept with in the past—she loves both Clint and Natasha, without a doubt—but she has never felt this full in decades and that’s not exactly in strictly a physical sense of the word. No, not since Peggy has she ever felt so full of intimacy and love. Jesus, he’s her _soulmate_. Her soul had cracked and splintered and she lost pieces of herself back in the war when she lost Steve and Bucky. The years helped stitch her heart back together and God knows that Peggy did wonders on her soul, but Peggy took back what she gave when she forced Quinn to leave. But to have Steve back now…it’s filled half of that hole in her soul and— _fuck_. She’s got to _have him_.

 

Quinn can’t take it anymore. She feels like she’s about to crawl out of her skin. She needs more and she needs it _now_. She grabs Steve’s shoulders and shoves him flat onto his back so she can grind against him. She may’ve put more force into it than necessary because his eyes go wide as saucers which makes her second-guess herself immediately. “Shit. Sorry. Are you okay?”

 

“Yes,” he answers fervently and his hands fly back to her hips to squeeze. “Christ, yes. It’s really fuckin’ okay. _More_ than okay.”

 

She laughs breathlessly. There’s her enthusiastic boy that loves to be pushed around in bed. “Better hold on then, sweetheart. I’m about to save some poor horse by ridin’ a cowboy.” It’s the absolute worst line and he cracks up laughing. She’s not offended. If you can’t laugh with your partner in bed then you probably don’t have the best partner.

 

“Jesus fuck, please tell me that’s not a real thing these days.”

 

“It was a country song back in ‘oh-four.”

 

“That was _awful_. Remind me again why I love you?”

 

Quinn smiles wickedly down at him before she leans forward to hold onto the headboard and then give the first actual good thrust. It’s so hard that it rocks the bed back against the wall. Steve immediately sucks in a sharp breath before its let back out as a loud groan. “Oh,” he manages through gritted teeth. “That’s why.”

 

“Uh-huh,” she gasps in agreement. Holy shit, she did not expect that to feel as amazing as it did. Oh boy are they ever about to have a lot of fun.

 

Quinn promised that she would ride her boy within an inch of his life and she can finally make good on that promise. She keeps one hand on the headboard so she can have more leverage to fuck herself on his cock harder and holds him down with her other hand so he won’t move. Then, she rides him—bounces on his cock like she was made for it. But Steve is Steve and he won’t let her do all the work, so he bends his legs and grabs her ass and fucks up into her with as much as she’s giving. His mouth latches onto her tits—see, loves having his mouth full, her boy does—but he’s moaning while he does it and that sends even more zings of pleasure shooting across her body.

Again, she has no idea where the sudden burst of dominance out of Steve came from, but it makes another appearance when he forces her to stop so he can roll them over. He’s on top now and can set the pace however he wants it to be. And honestly? Fuck it, she doesn’t even care anymore. He just better start fucking her again. She wraps her legs around his waist and squeezes so he’ll get with the program. When he starts jackhammering into her, she reaches her hands up to hold back onto the headboard. It’s for a completely different reason than before, though—she holds on for dear life now. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” she moans, getting louder on every word. She buries her head back into the pillow, back arching, and he takes that as the all-clear to lean down and kiss, lick, and suck on every inch of skin he can reach.

 

They worked each other up for so long, so she’s not surprised that it doesn’t take that long for them to come. Quinn screams when she does, whole body locking up, hands clenching down so hard on the headboard that it cracks underneath her grip. The noise doesn’t stop Steve, though, and he fucks into her a few more times before he gives one last final thrust that’s so hard it shoves her up to where her head almost rams into the board.

 

Now, what _does_ surprise her is the fact that she can feel Steve inside her, hot and hard, and he doesn’t ever _soften up_. He obviously has to slow down because he’s sensitive, bordering too much, but, yeah. He’s definitely still as hard as a rock and that never happened before, did it? Do they have _that much_ pent up energy?

 

Steve has to blink stars out of his eyes, but he’s unconsciously still rocking into her. The fact that he hasn’t softened up one bit doesn’t seem to bother him, but she knows where this could lead. “Stop,” she pants. Fuck, sometimes she hates her practical doctor’s brain because it can be so not-sexy. “We need a new rubber before we go another round.”

Slowly, Steve pulls out of her and she tries not to make a face from feeling so empty all of a sudden. He stares down at his condom-covered dick and then back at her. His brows furrow. “But—”

Obviously, she’ll have to explain this a little more in-depth. If he isn’t limp now, he’s about to be. “I know it doesn’t seem like it’s that much in there, but you come another time in that condom and it can leak out.” This topic must be a little sexier than she initially assumed because she watches Steve's dick twitch in interest. _Men_. “I know, I know,” she drawls as she rolls her eyes. “That inner caveman of yours would love to come in me over and over until I'm dripping with it.”

He covers his eyes and groans loudly. “I need you to shut up. That's definitely not helping the no-coming a second time problem.”

"Technically, you _could_ do it now, if you wanted. Since you’re not inside me anymore.” Go figure, but he doesn’t seem very satisfied by that option. “Anyway. I know that people these days think I'm too modern for this or some shit, but I actually would love nothin’ more than for you to put a baby in me—”

The noise he cuts her off with is extremely distressed and she wonders what turns him on more, the act of putting a baby in her or the image of her being pregnant with his baby. “ _Not helping_ , Quinn!”

“—but it won't be now when you ain't been out of the ice for not even a month.” She moves to run her hands over his shoulders. “I'm sorry,” she apologizes and leans up to kiss him sweetly. “Sometimes Doctor Hayden makes a debut even when I don't want her to.”

Steve laughs and then goes through with the process of tugging off the condom, tying it up, and then tossing it over into the nearby trashcan. Once he’s done, he drops down so he’s plastered across her chest “Doctor Hayden, I need a checkup. I have this swelling—”

Quinn slaps him square in the middle of his back. “That's awful,” she complains. “And I distinctly remember when you almost knocked some dumb GI on his ass ‘cause he said the same thing.”

“Well, when _he_ said it, he never met you before a day in his life. Besides, I've fucked you—how'd you put it that one time? Oh, yeah. Me ‘n you have fucked six ways from Sunday. I think that entitles me to some sort of a free checkup.”

“Touché."

 

Steve turns his head to the side to nuzzle his nose against her cheek and she grins. "You ripped the headboard to pieces," he points out.

 

Quinn doesn't even bother to look because she knows it's bad. "Honey, after we're done with each other, there probably won't be that much of a bed left, anyway." He laughs into her skin and she turns her head so she can catch his lips in a languid kiss. "I'm serious, y'know. I hope you're ready to sleep on the floor until a place opens where we can buy a bed."

 

"As long as you're there with me, I don't care where we end up."

 

\---

 

The sun hasn't even started to come up, it's so early, but that apparently didn't stop Steve who decided to wrestle up some breakfast. Quinn stands in the doorway of the kitchen, not sure if she's more confused about the fact that he can actually _cook_ or about where the fuck those cartons of eggs even came from. Are there honestly stores that're open only two days after an _alien invasion_?

 

Steve must hear her come into the kitchen because he looks over his shoulder at her. She wonders if he can see the question marks that float above her head. "I'm happy I have a doctor in the house now. I almost had a heart attack when I saw how much these were," he explains as he taps the plastic carton. "Eggs were only sixty _cents_ back in our day, Quinn, and now they're three whole dollars more. Can you believe that?"

 

"What I can't believe is that you were able to find those at all." She saddles up behind him and kisses the back of his neck before she puts her chin on his shoulder and watches him work. "Jesus, I've been in New York since the sixties and yet it always surprises me."

 

"Best city in the world," he declares and he's all Brooklyn when he does.

 

"Don't get me wrong now, Rogers. My heart will always belong to Kentucky,."

 

Steve turns his head to the side and leans in close, lips hovering over hers. "What about me, huh?"

 

She reaches a hand up to squeeze his cheeks which makes his bottom lip stick out in a pout. It's an awkward angle, but she kisses him, anyway. "All you want me to say is that my soul is yours, don't you?"

 

"Can you really blame me?"

 

She hums and uses her other hand to turn off the stove. "Well, can you really blame me if I'm not much interested in breakfast at this exact moment?" She trails her fingers down his back and they linger on the waistband of his pretty little boxer briefs. "You look so pretty, baby boy," she croons and dips her hands underneath the fabric to squeeze his ass. "Gonna let me have some dessert?"

 

Steve worries his bottom lip between his teeth and pushes his ass back against her hands. If that's not the biggest damn _take me, Quinn_ then she doesn't know what is. "You really wanna ruin your appetite? After I worked hard on breakfast for you?"

 

"Look, I may not be the best at cookin', but even I know it ain't that hard to make some eggs." She slides a hand around to the front of his briefs and wraps it around his half-hard dick. "C'mon," she wheedles. "Do you know how hard it is to look at your ass and _not_ drop down on my knees then and there and eat you out?"

 

"Christ, Quinn," he hisses. She carefully maneuvers him to the free side of the counter so he doesn't accidentally lean on the stove and burn himself. Once he's clear, she's all free to run a finger down between the crack of his ass and linger over his hole. "Your mouth really wasn't this bad before, was it? I don't remember you being this bad."

 

"Guess I'm a dirty old woman now," she drawls and then completely leans away from him so she doesn't touch him anywhere now. He whines and that makes her slap his ass which in turn forces a yelp of surprise out of him. "Get over to that table, bend over, and spread 'em for me, soldier."

 

"Could you make it any less sexy?" Yet, as he complains, he follows her orders and moves over to the table. After he kicks off his boxers, he turns around and bends over. Then, being the fucking tease that he is, he shakes his ass for her. "You coming?" He questions innocently after he looks over his shoulder at her and bats those pretty eyes at her.

 

Quinn prowls toward him. "I ain't the one that'll be coming, sugar," she purrs. Then, she drops down to her knees and places a chaste kiss at the dip of his spine. "You're not allowed to touch yourself unless I say so," she informs him. The thunk that echoes in the kitchen when he drops his head on the table means he isn't happy with her order—she figured he wouldn't be. "You keep pouting and I won't let you come at all."

 

"You're cruel, woman," he grumbles under his breath.

 

She's not ashamed to admit that the reason she slaps his ass is more to watch it jiggle than to actually punish him for the brattiness. Honest, she could write poetry about Steve's fantastic ass. Round and ripe as a peach, could bounce a quarter off it—she wonders if he knows about pegging because, oh God, she'd love to watch herself fuck him.

 

Quinn spreads his cheeks apart and leans forward to flatten her tongue against his hole and then lick around it. She can feel the shiver that runs down his spine. For a second, she really debates on whether she should tease him some more or not, but she'll have mercy on him. Besides, with the way her libido has been in overdrive ever since she and Steve started in on each other yesterday, she's not sure she'd have the patience for much more teasing. She's so desperate to have him any and every way he'll let her. Does he know, she wonders, what he's started in her? Give a person that's been stranded in the desert for water and you'd have to pry that canteen from their cold dead hands.

 

Stranded in the desert without water is probably the best way to describe how she eats him out now. She laps and licks at his hole with the sole purpose of loosening him up enough so that she can finger him. However, she does stop to nibble the tiniest bit against his rim now and then because she loves to hear him gasp wetly against the table. She wonders if she can make him scream.

 

When she can finally slip a finger inside him, she leans away only so she can force him to turn around and suck his cock. She grips the base of his dick with one hand to hold him steady so she can suck him down and quickly goes back to fingering him with the other. Steve grabs the edge of the table with both hands and tosses his head back. His moan is so loud that she’s sure he could wake up the whole neighborhood. She must be doing something right because, along with that moan, she hears the wood start to splinter underneath his strong grip.

 

One of Steve’s hands fly to the back of her head to hold her still—as if she’s going somewhere with him like this under her—when he comes. She almost chokes because he nearly fucks his cock down her throat, but she takes it like a champ and swallows down every bit of his come that she can. She must miss some because when she moves back to her feet and leans up to kiss him, his thumb slides across the corner of her mouth. He offers said thumb to her and she makes sure when she licks the come off, it looks as sexy and filthy as possible.

 

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and tugs away his thumb to kiss her. “We’re going back to bed _right fucking now_.”

 

Quinn’s stomach decides to butt in on the moment and growls loudly in the quiet kitchen. She blushes at the sound and tries to defend herself with, “My metabolism is so high that I’m always eating.” She eyes the cartons of eggs on the counter for a second. “Breakfast and then more mind-blowing sex, yeah?”

 

“Suppose I could let you off the hook this time,” he concedes with a laugh.

 

\---

 

The poor bed goes out in a blaze of glory…

 

…and by blaze of glory, what she really means is that Quinn had been riding Steve so hard that her non-reinforced bedframe finally collapsed underneath the weight of their non-stop fucking.

 

When Steve’s in the middle of sex, that’s where his mind stays focused, so he collects Quinn into his arms, slams her against the wall, and takes over from there. And goddamn it, he is fucking her so nice, but she does _not_ have a one-track mind, so she continues to gripe about the bed.

 

“You revved up my sex drive—” she gasps and her fingernails rake across his back because _fuck, fuck, fuck_ he hit the perfect fucking spot. “You—you sleep on the fl _oor_ —oh my God. Fuck. Right there, right there, _right there_.”

 

\---

 

Goddamn it, she is so close that she can taste it in her throat. Her toes are curling, her chest is heaving, but Steve doesn’t want to give her that one last shove to push her over the edge. Admittedly, the very sight of him alone should be enough—nestled between her thighs, those frustratingly beautiful blue eyes refusing to move away from her, tongue delicately lapping at her clit, slowly thrusting two fingers in and out of her—but they’ve been at this for a long time, so sue her.

 

Maybe if she puts on a show then he’ll let her come, she reasons. So, she tilts her head back against the couch, closes her eyes, and then moves her hands to push her breasts together. “Steve,” she pleads breathily. She pinches her nipples and tugs the slightest bit—if he won’t let her come then she can always do it herself. “ _Please_.”

 

Steve hums against her and the vibrations send waves of pleasure rolling across her body. She doesn’t expect it, though, so she tugs too hard on one of her nipples and she winces, but pain and pleasure are apparently at that point of blurring. At this point, everything feels fucking fantastic.

 

Quinn is quite literally at the tipping point. Her entire body tenses and she sucks in a breath, holds it there—so, of fucking course, that’s when her _cell phone rings_.

 

She’s past the point of words, so she makes a grabby motion and hopes that’s enough for Steve to understand that he shouldn’t answer the phone and should instead finish her off. Her message either goes over his head or Steve’s just a monster that decides he’ll stretch this out as much as he possibly can to tease her—and she’s honestly betting on it being the latter.

 

“Stark,” Steve greets and moves from two fingers gently thrusting into her down to one. The bastard _knows_ that won’t be enough for her. Also, _what the fuck is he doing_? Is he honestly going to sit there on the phone and talk with Tony while he fucks her with his fingers? Holy hell, when did Steve become an exhibitionist? “No, no, no. She was busy washing up, but she’s okay to talk now. Here.”

 

Quinn watches Steve hold out the phone to her with wide eyes. He honestly expects her to take that phone and talk to Tony while he—nope. No way is she going to take part in one of Steve’s kinky sex fantasies. _Go fuck yourself_ , she mouths, and then leans back against the couch, pouting. Damn it, she was really close.

 

“ _Hello_?” She can hear Tony scream from the other end of the phone. Steve, the little shit-head, does this absolutely amazing move where he brushes up against that spot inside her. Understandably, she briefly loses function of her limbs because her brain focuses on the overwhelming pleasure, and Steve takes the opportunity to shove the phone into her hand and slap it back towards her.

 

 _Fucker_ , she curses mentally, and throws in every other kind of name she can come up with on the spot. Fine. Okay. She’ll tell Tony she’ll call him back later. “Hey, kid _do_ —” the pitch in her voice rises when Steve happily resumes the task of flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue. “Tony, hey, let me call you— _hah_ —back, okay?”

 

“This honestly won’t take that long—”

 

“Tony, please, later,” she strains to get out.

 

Tony, who is _Tony_ , completely ignores her. “So, Thor’s headed back to the spirit in the sky and he’s taking Reindeer Games with him. I don’t know about Barton and Romanoff, but I’ll be headed back to Malibu to be with my beloved Pep and Rhodey—oh, and I’m bringing Banner. Did I mention that?” _It won’t take that long_ her ass. “Guy deserves a nice R-and-R since he’s been on the run since forever and I need a science bro _so bad_. Rhodey’s always away and has no time to play.” What isn’t going to take that long? Her coming. She’s close again. “Are you hearing anything I’m saying? You’re very non-verbal right now.”

 

“Yes. Yeah. I’m definitely hearing every…single…word…” Okay, her lizard brain is back in control. Steve, with a wicked grin, leans up and tries to move his hand, but she lashes out to make sure he doesn’t move. “Please keep going,” she can’t help but say and hopes Tony sticks to knowing machines and not people.

 

“ _Okay_ ,” Tony thankfully accepts. “We’ll meet around noon in Central Park. I assume you’ll want to see me off—you old folks and your nostalgia. Feel free to bring the other geezer with you. He sounds like he finally got that stick out of his ass.” Steve huffs and the breath fans out across her pussy. She immediately tenses up again because she is quite literally one stiff breeze away from coming.

 

“Perfect, wonderful, awesome—see you tomorrow at noon and Central Park. I’m hanging up now.”

 

“Well, that’s rude—”

 

As Quinn quickly slams her thumb on the button to end the damn call, she reminds herself to apologize to him tomorrow. She opens her mouth because you bet your ass she’s going to rip Steve a new one for putting her through this, but he shoves three fingers inside her and fucks her until she comes screaming.

 

“You motherfucker,” she wheezes when she can see more than white and slumps to the side of the couch, trying to catch her breath. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

 

Steve brushes his lips across hers, grinning and laughing. “I love you, too.”

 


	19. 2011 - Part X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a brand new day for Quinn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I completely forgot that I made [a playlist for this whole story](https://play.spotify.com/user/predmon76/playlist/6mo2gdHcq6ImDCemAy3H9K). So, hey, if you want to re-read the story with some angsty background music then go for it! And I also forgot that there's one more tiny chapter and you'll forgive me for putting yet another chapter between you and Bucky after you read it, I promise. I love you guys!

The couch is nowhere near the size it should be to support two super soldiers—for sleep, anyway, because they've fucked on it plenty already. So, not only does that mean that she'll have to shop for some new furniture—she _hates_ that, by the way, because Ma and Pa raised her up to never throw stuff out unless you absolutely have to and no one remembers that the Great Depression was pretty much her whole adolescence—but she and Steve have no place to sleep now. Her poor bed, may it rest in peace. The best solution that she can come up with is to collect as many blankets as possible, throw them on the floor, and camp out there. Steve seems to be pretty okay with it—after all, they’ve had to sleep in a lot worse places. 

 

Both of them are spread out on the floor, naked as the day they were born, curled around one another. Steve’s tried his hardest to wrap his arms around her but that didn’t exactly work out since he wanted to put his head on her chest and listen to her heart more. Quinn holds him as close as she can—she has one arm around his shoulders while her other hand is threaded in his hair. Honest to God, this may be the most intimate they’ve been since Steve woke up—even with the fuck-fest they’ve embarked on for the past two days—or that’s what it feels like to her, anyway. Silence has settled over them since they bunkered down and this is the only kind of quiet she could possibly handle these days because the world’s not completely devoid of sound anymore. No matter what, she can hear Steve breathe and, why, if she really focuses, she could hear his heartbeat, too. 

 

“Hey, Quinn,” Steve murmurs and she hums to let him know that he has her full attention. “Did you know that Bucky always wanted to see the Grand Canyon?” It takes a lot for her to not tense up because their lost soulmate is a very fresh hurt for Steve. When she peers down at him, she expects the sadness to overwhelm him, but…there’s more fondness in his eyes than hurt. It definitely comes as a surprise. “We both wanted to see the country, actually. I didn’t have a particular place I wanted to see like he did, but anywhere he went, I would’ve been happy to be there with him. And up until the war, all we ever saw our whole lives was Brooklyn. We always dreamed about a road trip, but we never had the money—which I don’t think anyone did back then.” 

 

“Oh,” she breathes out. She actually never knew that about either of them. “Is that so?” The corner of her mouth twitches. “I’m sure this don’t come as a surprise to you, but it was the same with me. Anyway I could leave the mountains would’ve been a blessin’.” She has an idea of where this chit-chat is headed, so she decides to throw out, “Now, I don’t want to boast, but SHIELD’s paid me pretty nice over the years. I have a little somethin’-somethin’ saved up.” 

 

Steve breaks out of the hold she has on him and then shuffles around to lean up on an elbow so his face hovers over hers. Their lips brush and, against her mouth, he repeats, “Hey, Quinn.” Finally, she cracks and a smile breaks out on her face when she watches the same happen to him. 

 

“Yeah, Steve?” God have mercy on her soul, she’s in love. She’s so in love with Steve. For decades, she had been so sure she would never have this back—not when she’s lost every love she’s ever had. But he’s here now and she has the power to hold on. 

 

"You wanna run away with me?" 

 

Quinn reaches up to wrap her arms around his shoulders and pulls him down so that their bodies touch and proceeds to kiss her boy within an inch of his live. “That sounds like a hell of a plan,” she answers giddily. They neck for a few minutes before she remembers one small but very important detail. “But before we do that,” she starts as she pushes him away to shoot him a meek look. “You have to meet my family.” 

 

Steve snorts—probably because of how serious she tried to make it out to be—and then he cracks up. Through his laughter, he asks, "I don't have a choice in the matter, huh?" 

 

"Oh, honey," she starts sympathetically and strokes his cheek for dramatic effect. "I can’t believe you even asked me that question. _Of course_ you don’t have a choice in the matter.” He buries his face into the crook of her neck, shoulders shaking with laughter, which makes her laugh right along with him. “Look, I’m old-fashioned and I have to have the family’s approval before we even think about going steady.” 

 

“We’re already shacked up, Quinn,” his muffled voice points out and now she cackles because, holy shit, if that isn’t a kick in the head. They _are_ shacked up. Ma, bless her heart, would probably be scandalized. “I think we’re past goin’ steady.” 

 

“You hush up, Rogers,” she playfully shoots back before she digs her fingers into that one spot in his side that’s ticklish. With a squawk, he flails around and tries to get away from her, but she follows him. She rolls over until she's on top of him and then the two of them break out into a fight that consists of tickling and giggling like a couple of dorks. After a few minutes, Quinn decides to let him win. He rolls them back over so he's on top once again and pin her arms above her head. “Goodness me,” she gasps and puts some extra southern into her drawl. “What ever will I do now?” 

 

Steve leans down to kiss her again. “Quinn Hayden, you’re an asshole,” he teases between kisses and she beams at him. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole and I love you more than you’ll ever know.” 

 

“I am what I eat,” she jokes and that one actually puts him flat on his back, grabbing at his pec while his laughter echoes across the apartment. “I’m sorry. I know that was awful. But I couldn’t resist.” Then, sweetly, when he can actually hear past his laughter, she reminds him, “You heard it a hundred times already, but I love you, too—like a mountain.” 

 

\--- 

 

Steve must expect some kind of resistance from SHIELD when the team comes for both Loki and the Tesseract because, before they head out, over breakfast, he drops the bomb on Quinn about what SHIELD's been up to these days. And bomb is a pretty damn accurate term to use since what they've cooked up are weapons of mass destruction made by way of old Hydra weapons and that cube. 

 

Quinn leans back on the counter and stares out the window as she processes the news. "I'm honestly not that surprised," she admits quietly but that doesn't make the stab in the back that much better. Maybe the reason she feels so hurt is because this isn't the first time that a director of SHIELD has lied to Quinn. "Guess secrets and lies are a requirement for directors," she adds dryly. 

 

"So you didn't know," maybe Steve meant that to be a question but it comes out as more of a very relieved statement. 

 

"No," she answers with a frown. "But that doesn't mean no kind of blame should be put on me." He immediately starts to protest so she cuts him off with a sharp, "There's absolutely no reason why I should've sat on my ass and let this happen." Almost absentmindedly, she whispers, "I came up with the idea of SHIELD because I didn't want anyone else to ever deal with what we did in our time. Before we started it up, I knew that even with SHIELD a peaceful world couldn't ever be possible, but I hoped—" She chews on her bottom lip. "All I wanted was to make a SHIELD for the world. I wanted us to be on the frontlines—to take the first blow, if it came down to that. The world's changed, but I never wanted us to have this much power." 

 

"You don't need to be so hard on yourself, Quinn. You didn't know." 

 

Like she said before, that doesn't make her any less to blame. She didn't know, yeah, and that's the problem—she _should've_ known and she should've stopped it before it ever came this far. She should've been more involved in SHIELD over the decades, but she's sat back and she's let other people steer and that's on her. Steve's too stubborn to understand that, though. "You don't need to worry about Nick," she assures him rather than argue anymore. She walks over to kiss the top of his head. "But before we leave, let me make a real quick call." 

 

\--- 

 

Maria definitely has to be one of the most stubborn people Quinn's ever met before in her whole entire life—more than Nat and, hell, maybe even more so than Pegs. She definitely doesn't want to let Quinn talk to Nick and Quinn's not sure whether it's because he's busy with the invasion cleanup or because she knows that Quinn knows about the Hydra weapons. However, what poor Maria doesn't seem to be aware of is that Quinn's had a whole lot more time for her head to harden. Quinn won't hesitate to march down to headquarters to talk to Nick in person and tells Maria as much and poor Maria must not want to deal with that particular headache because she finally concedes. 

 

Unlike Maria, Nick doesn't offer a bit of resistance to Quinn or her questions. "You knew about those weapons, didn't you? Both the Hydra and nuclear ones. You threw me that bullshit about wanting to make clean energy, but all you ever wanted to do was make a nuke." 

 

"I knew about the weapons, yes." 

 

Despite what everyone may think about her, Quinn is not nearly as black and white as she was back in the war. It may not make her happy when those choices have to be made, but she understands better now that sometimes sacrifices have to be made. With that said, there are still some lines that should never be crossed. “Did you order that strike on the city?” There's a fifty-fifty chance that Quinn will lose all the respect she has for Nick, but she has to know. 

 

"There's a pilot that's very upset about me shooting him out of the sky," he starts and she knows he’s sincere because of how pissed off he sounds when he adds, “But it still wasn’t the right bird.”  

 

“Okay,” she accepts. “Okay,” she repeats and makes sure it sticks in her brain. She can’t always take what he says as the truth—though, honestly, there were times she couldn’t do that with Peggy either—but she knows that, at the end of the day, he’s one of the good guys. “You’ll let Thor have Loki and the Tesseract and not you or anyone at SHIELD will put up a fuss about it, y’hear?” 

 

“Smartly, I decided not to stand in Thor's way when he came for his brother, so Loki has been taken care of. As for the Tesseract, Doctor Selvig, along with Doctor Banner and Stark, is preparing it for transport,” Nick explains. 

 

“Good,” she replies and tries not to sound as stumped as she feels. She’s used to a lot more stubbornness from Nick. Maybe he feels bad about the weapons…or maybe he needs as much a break as the rest of them. “Me and Steve are going off the grid for a little bit.” She hopes the _so don’t bother to call me_ is loud and clear. “When I come back, though, you and me are about to have a long chat about SHIELD.” 

 

“If that’s the case, feel free to take as much time off as you need,” he shoots back dryly. 

 

Yeah, Nick definitely needs a vacation of his own from all this bullshit, she realizes with a tiny smile. “I’ll be seein’ you around Nick.” 

 

\--- 

 

Before they head to meet up with the team in the park, Quinn introduces Steve to his brand new bouncing baby. It is _not_ a small child, of course, but rather it’s a motorcycle—which he’ll treat the same way someone would a newborn probably. Back in the war, Quinn and Bucky always wondered if an inanimate object could be a person’s soulmate too because Steve was very attached to the motorcycle Howard built him. 

 

When he’s done and cried out—okay, he doesn’t cry, but he comes close to it…or maybe a heart attack what with the way he stutters and wheezes—and she her ribs heal after the bear hug he gives her, he exclaims, “Where the fuck did you come up with this?” 

 

“I’ve, uh, had it since a couple of days before the invasion,” she admits embarrassedly while she rubs the back of her neck and toes at the ground. “I maybe wanted to surprise you with it since you’d need some wheels of your own, but…you know how I am, Steve.” She nervously chuckles. “I second-guessed myself and didn’t know if you’d think it was over the top or somethin’. I…definitely channeled my inner Tony on this one.” 

 

In the middle of yet another bear hug, he whispers into her ear, “It’s perfect.” Then, because he’s a little shit, he leans away to raise his brows at her. “But now I’m really curious—how much money _do_ you have?” 

 

All Quinn replies with is, “I’m a doctor.” Because, really, that’s all the answer he needs. 

 

\--- 

 

There's been a perimeter set up that'll keep nosy people at a distance from the action—it seems that Nick was a little more involved with this than he let on. So, there's a little privacy for the team, thank God. Someone's bound to snap some pictures, though, she knows it. Still, even when she knows that, because Quinn does not give one good goddamn fuck anymore, she reaches down to lace her fingers through Steve's. Their relationship is bound to come back into the public eye yet again, but for now she won't pay any attention to that. 

 

"You're late," Tony sings when Quinn and Steve approach the small little group that's assembled. He takes one look at their entwined hands and then, to Quinn, asks, "Does this mean I have to call him Uncle Steve now?" 

 

"Please don't," Steve blurts. "That's way too creepy," he adds which makes Quinn laugh and Tony pout—but he's always a bit of a sore loser when someone throws back an unexpected comeback. 

 

Tony needs to have the last word, so he and Steve decide to banter it up. Quinn quickly darts away so that she can sneak in beside Thor because she probably has the most manners out of their bunch and someone should thank him. He stands in front of the open doors of an unmarked armored truck where Loki is held, in some fancy shackles and an even fancier muzzle that she knows are definitely not of this world. From how he's putting everyone six feet under with his eyes, Loki's obviously not happy about his current predicament and that makes her pleased as punch. Thor, however, is as upset as Loki probably which is to be expected because the last time they saw each other, Thor spoke with nothing but respect for his little brother so the evil must've been a shocker. 

 

"I don't know about you," Quinn speaks up and Thor, stuck in his head, startles then whips his head around to look at her. "But you literally came to another planet and put your ass on the line to save it, so I think that makes you pretty damn worthy of…whatever it is you didn't think you were worthy of before." 

 

Thor ducks his head and smiles a little. Payback, in her book, since all he's ever done is made her blush since she's met him. "I only did my duty, Lady Quinn." What a humble fucker. "The same as you, as your love, as the rest of Earth's warriors." He frowns and glances over to the side, at Loki. "It was Loki who caused this destruction and no matter how much he wishes it was not so, he _is_ of Asgard. It was only appropriate that he be stopped by one of our own." 

 

Quinn crosses her arms over her chest and levels him with a sharp look—which is quickly undermined by her little smirk. "Thor, would yah take the damn compliment?" 

 

"Of course," he answers with a huff of amusement and a chuckle. "My apologies." 

 

She holds out a hand for him to shake, but he clasps her forearm to shake instead—the way some ancient warrior would and, okay, that is technically what he is. "Maybe next time you can come visit the planet when you haven't been thrown out of the sky or when it's not about to be blown up," she suggests. 

 

"I may take you up on that offer." He at least looks a little less troubled when he smiles at her and that's all she can ask for. "I was happy to hear that one of your lost loves has come back to you. Truly, you are both mighty warriors and deserve no less than the utmost joy in your future. I was honored to be by your sides in battle." He clasps her on the shoulder. "Farewell, Lady Quinn." 

 

"We bled together, Thor," she whispers and pats his hand that's still on her shoulder. "And I sure as hell ain't no lady, anyway. You can call me Quinn, okay?" She moves away to start and head back over to Steve. "Don't be a stranger." 

 

\--- 

 

Thor, with Loki and Tesseract in tow, disappear in a flash of blue. Good riddance—not to Thor, but to the two troublemakers because that damn cube has been a pain in her ass for nearly a century now. Afterward, it seems that all there's left to do is for everyone to head their separate ways. 

 

Both Natasha and Clint are, no surprise, headed back to SHIELD work. Before they leave, she confesses, "Y'all know that Nick won't quit until Steve's picked up the shield again and I can't ignore what SHIELD's been up to anymore. So, what I'm sayin' is that you'll probably start to see a whole lot more of me now." 

 

"At least it'll be a nice view," Nat comments while Clint waggles his brows—which she assumes is meant to be an agreement to what Nat said. They're the two of them a couple of dorks so Steve will definitely get along fine with them. 

 

Clint must have an afterthought because, when she starts to walk over to see Tony off, he throws at her back, "Hey, I want postcards from all the places you hit." 

 

Quinn rolls her eyes and looks over her shoulder to point out, "Clint, you've literally been all over the world. _Why_ do you need postcards to places you've already seen?" 

 

"Work trips don't count," he argues. "I don't have time to take in the sights." 

 

"Guess that means you'll have to _make_ time wherever you head next, don't it?" But she knows she'll end up with a whole bunch of postcards because she spoils the shit out of everyone she loves. Jesus, she's such a pushover.  

 

 

Before she can make it to Steve and Tony, Quinn bumps into Doctor Banner. "Thanks for your support, Doctor Banner," she immediately says. "With all that's happened to you, I'm sure it took a lot to answer when SHIELD called." 

 

"Well, somehow I ended up with a place to call home? So, I think it worked out for the best?" 

 

"Yeah, about that," she starts with a nervous chuckle. Someone should probably warn the poor man now. "Look, Tony's…a little bit of a handful—" she stops and amends that with, "Y'know what? That's a lie. He's a lot to handle sometimes. If he starts to be too much, I'm sure you'll have met Pepper and Rhodey by then, so call them. They can keep him in line a whole lot better than I ever could." 

 

Doctor Banner actually snorts. "No disrespect, Doctor Hayden, but I already worked that out since I didn't have much of a choice in the matter about my new home." He makes sure to tack on, "But I know he means well."  

 

"It was nice to meet you, Doctor Banner." 

 

"You too, Doctor Hayden." 

 

 

Both Quinn and Doctor Banner slowly made their way over to Tony's car and Tony tuts at her when they stop in front of it. "Excuse me, you've already made a new bestie today—yes, we all saw your budding friendship with Thor—so hands off mine." She doesn't know if it's on purpose or not, but Steve and Doctor Banner let Quinn and Tony have some space. 

 

"Don't you know how to share?" she teases. 

 

"I'm an only child," is all he says. 

 

Point to Tony. "Okay, you can have this one," she concedes playfully. "Hey, make sure you send Pepper and Rhodey my love when you make it back to Malibu. Also, tell Rhodey to call me sometime ‘cause Pepper’s the only one between the three of you that takes time out of her day to talk to me." 

 

"My dear aunt,” he throws an arm around her shoulders and, drama queen that he is, waves his free hand around dramatically. “I say this with as much love as possible, but that will most definitely not be possible for, like, a solid week or two. Trust me when I say that the only talking that will be done when I see them is—” 

 

"Nuh-uh, no, nope, no way. Don't you start that shit with me, Anthony Stark," she scrambles to shut that down real quick and the asshole cackles in triumph. "Jeez, all I want to do is talk about how much I love your significant others more than you—is that too much to ask for?" He rolls his eyes. Then, she leans in like she has a secret and whispers, "Tell you what? Don’t let those two know this, but you’re my favorite.” 

 

“Obviously,” Tony scoffs. “I’m everyone’s favorite. I quite literally may be a national treasure at this point.” 

 

“And I love you too, kiddo,” she reminds him quietly because he hasn’t heard that near as much as someone should in their life. “Take care of yourself and if you can’t do that then, for the love of God, let Pepper and Rhodey do it,” she demands as she smiles at him fondly. 

 

Tony is bad with any kind of affection as it is, so there's absolutely no way he can show any sort of it in public. She’ll accept that the most he can offer her is a pat on the shoulder and a mumbled, “Yeah, uh, you—” he clears his throat and she grins. “You too, champ.” 

 

 

There are only two people that haven’t sped off into the sunset and that’s Quinn and Steve. When she turns around to point this out to Steve, he’s nearly ready to head on out since he’s leaned up against his motorcycle. Quinn saunters over to him and hopes she looks nearly as sexy as he does with that little leather number he’s sporting. 

 

“Hey there, soldier,” she croons and loops her fingers in his front belt loops so she can tug him closer to her. “Can I hitch a ride?” 

 

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” Steve drawls and he tries to keep sultry for her but that cracks a second later and he grins at her. “Where’re you headed?” 

 

Quinn reaches up to loop her arms around his shoulders and stands on her toes so she can hover her lips barely over his. With a fluttering heart, she truthfully answers with, “Anywhere and everywhere so long as you’re there with me.” 

 


	20. 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes one of the biggest, scariest jumps of his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to [this playlist](https://play.spotify.com/user/predmon76/playlist/6B3P5elqSl2gaP7TI3Lkdy) and cry with me.  
> Well, this is finally the end of this part of the series. You guys obviously know what comes next, but I still want to thank you guys for sticking with it this long. Seriously. You have no idea how much your feedback means to me. It's amazing and I love all of you so freaking much.  
> Get ready because the next installment of the series is putting y'all on a train to Angst Town~!

Captain America is supposed to be one of the bravest men in history and Steve can tell you, without a doubt—because he is an expert on all matters Captain America, thank you very much—that this so-called courage is an absolute goddamn lie. Okay, maybe not, because he'd probably have an easier time if he faced down Schmidt a second time rather than deal with… _this_. Fuck, this takes some nerves of steel that he simply doesn't possess. So, maybe Captain America _is_ as brave as people think, but Steve Rogers? Yeah, Steve Rogers is a chicken shit. 

 

For example, take his current state. Rather than pace around outside the front door to the apartment he now shares with his soulmate, he keeps outside and does it by the curb instead. The reason he's out in front of God and everyone else is because said soulmate—that he loves with all his heart, by the way—can't hear him all the way down here. Huh. Now that he thinks about it, that may actually not be true because she probably _could_ hear him, if she really focused. Her senses are so much more sharper than his. Anyway, technically she could hear him but  it wouldn't be as easy as it'd be if he paced outside the door in a quiet hallway. Outside, in this beautiful, perfect weather, he can sweat and pace as much as he wants and she won't even know. 

 

Like Steve said before, he's a chicken shit and the embarrassment is made a hundred times worse by the fact that there's no damn reason for him to be this scared. A certain someone always says that Steve's a drama queen and, hell, she may be right. Really, this isn't some kind of deadly suicide mission he's about to dive headfirst into—he's dealt with those before and this may actually be scarier than that. One way or another, whether it's with him alive or dead, every mission eventually comes to an end. This…this is forever. Matters of the heart and soul always are. Basically, for the rest of his life, he'll either live in pure unadulterated happiness or have a broken heart. See, there's not that much at stake, is there? 

 

For fuck's sake, he shouldn't be this damn nervous. This is his soulmate—no. No. She's more than that. This is _Quinn_. Before they were separated, they spent nearly two years with each other in the bloody trenches of war-torn Europe and since he came out of the ice, they've had a whole year of peace with each other—if a person doesn't include the SHIELD work they do. Not only that, but Quinn has seen Steve when he hit rock bottom, has seen him when he's been the worst of the worst. _Then_ , when he had literally abandoned her for decades, left her alone with twice the pain he tried to avoid with a dip in ice, she took the leap for him when he came back. She could've kicked his ass for what he did to her—he deserves no less, probably deserves more actually—but she opened her heart back up to him instead. Look, if that doesn't show how much she cares about him then he doesn't know what on earth would. Oh _God_. Oh _shit_. Steve doesn't deserve her. The truth slams into him harder than when he hit that ice—he does not deserve this beautiful woman. This is such a bad idea. He shouldn't ask for more when he's already the luckiest man in the entire universe to have as much as he does.  

 

Fuck, he's about to throw up, he's so nervous. This is a horrible, horrible idea. He wishes he had someone to help talk him down, but everyone he knows—both from his days spent back in the war and here in the future—couldn't be trusted to keep their mouth shut. He's lucky that Liam and Thomas haven't spilled the beans yet when he went down to Kentucky to see them secretly. Quinn's dad may not be alive, but that doesn't mean he can't ask the rest of her family for their approval—Steve is old-fashioned that way. 

 

Okay. Okay. Steve has to hurry up and do this already because Natasha is an extremely smart person and she could very well already know what Steve's up to and could've tattled and told Quinn that their plane landed. She wouldn't ruin the surprise, he knows, but she would, in turn, make Quinn suspicious about what everyone's up to. He wants to surprise Quinn and he wants to do it in the home that they've only barely started to make here in D.C. In their apartment, it's private and no one will catch a peek. This should stay between Steve and Quinn while it can, shouldn't it? This could potentially be a very precious or very disastrous moment and…people have started to stare and he should head inside now, yeah. 

 

As Steve climbs the staircase to their floor and heads down the hallway toward their front door, his head runs a million miles an hour. Don’t even start him on how fast his heart beats inside his chest. He rubs at his chest absentmindedly—an instinct to the asthma that isn't there anymore. There are so many variables here that he can't account for and…God, listen to him come at this like it's the damned battlefield. This is definitely stupid as hell that he's so worried—because, c’mon, this is _Quinn._ Unfortunately, he has no idea how to calm down. Maybe he should sneak back to the bedroom and put on a new shirt. He's sweating bullets here. Should he dress fancier for this? Fuck, maybe he should've taken her out somewhere nice to do this. But then…is there an actual proper way to do this? 

 

Careful to not make any noise, Steve slowly opens the front door. He pauses to make sure Quinn doesn't call out for him before he slides inside and closes the door behind him. Then, he props the shield up against the front door and places the duffel with his uniform next to it. For the thousandth time today, he checks his pocket to make sure the little box hasn't moved from where it's been for…jeez, a week now? Besides, as if it could possibly move with how much he's been rubbing the top of it like people do those little worry stones. 

 

Quinn probably wouldn't have heard him if he stood outside the front door, Steve realizes when he takes in the state of the apartment. She was real busy while he was away because she's finally unpacked all their boxes—the record player definitely wasn't out when he left for his mission. Volume cranked up so that it echoes across the apartment, she has on some Robert Johnson—no surprise there since he has to be one of her favorite artists. She always would hum those blues tunes of his under her breath back in the war. It's funny that all these years later, she listens to Robert Johnson and nearly every other artist or band she loved back in the forties. 

 

Steve sneaks into the kitchen and, there in the doorway, he…stops. He stops and watches as she works. He loves her, but he'll be the first to say that she doesn't have the best voice, and she doesn't even care—neither does he. She belts out the lyrics alongside Johnson since she thinks she's alone in the kitchen. Of course, there are some curses thrown in the mix here and there. Steve won't let her eat anymore fast food—even with a super soldier serum, he doesn't know how she's made it all these years on that kind of diet—so she's been trying to practice cooking and that's what she's up to now, he assumes. The window is open and a nice breeze blows in, tousles her straw blonde hair. Fuck, he wants no more than to draw her—if she would only let him, damn it. The sunshine streams in the open curtain and if she turned to face him, he would think she was an angel sent from heaven above. 

 

Just why in the fuck was he ever scared to do this? He's an idiot. And he's fucked up so much. He fucked it up with Bucky—Steve will live with that for the rest of his life—and he almost fucked it up with Quinn, but he won't make that mistake twice. Steve will be the first person to say that he doesn't deserve to have Quinn at his side, but until she decides she doesn't want him anymore, he'll hold her close. He'll have her in any and every way she'll let him. Forever and a goddamn day, he'll love Quinn Hayden. 

 

With all that in mind, Steve takes the leap—same way that he did the first time he kissed Quinn, in front of a fucking Hydra base of all places. He slowly moves toward her and reaches out to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. These days, she burns so hot and he hums in pleasure because of it. Then, softly and shyly, into her ear he asks, "Marry me?" 

 

Quinn, to her credit, doesn't startle or even tense up. Instead, she moves her head to the side so she can peek at him out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah, Rogers, I'll marry you." He thinks she doesn't quite realize how serious the question is because she beams at him, pecks him on the lips, and turns her head back toward the current task at hand. "Mission went without a hitch, I'm assuming?" She laughs and shakes her head. 

 

Sometimes, it's hard to believe how…oblivious Quinn can be. Guess it wasn't the best proposal anyway. He should've done it the old-fashioned way. He takes a step back away from her, pulls out the little box and opens it to reveal the engagement ring, and then bends down on a knee. 

 

Since he's not plastered all over her anymore and doesn't immediately answer her question, she turns around with knitted brows. "Steve?" But then she spots him and when she repeats, " _Steve_ ," it comes out a lot squeakier than before. "Oh my Lord, you were _serious about it_? You were actually serious about it?" 

 

Steve clears his throat. "Quinn—" 

 

But Quinn does what Quinn does best when she's nervous which is rant. "Are you _sure_? Steve, c'mon, I tease about how perfect I am, but—I'm _me_. Obviously, I can't cook worth a damn. I have the combined temper of Ma and Pa and you've seen that. I'm impatient—well, so are you technically, but my point stands. Oh, and I'm the most stubborn person in the world. And you know about my past and—and—" Despite what she thinks, Steve already knows about all of that. He wonders if she realizes that, to him, she's perfect _because_ she has those imperfections. He should tell her that…when he can put a word in. "Are you _sure_ you wanna do this? 'Cause we can wait, y'know—" 

 

" _Quinn_ ," he interrupts and this time it's louder and a little bit more stern. "Can you let me do this the proper way?" 

 

"Sorry," she breathes out and rubs at her eyes. "I'm sorry. Yeah. Yeah, sure. You can—oh my God, this is real," she whispers shakily. 

 

"I have spent three years of my life with you," he starts quietly and has to pause for a second. How the fuck can he even explain how much she means to him? He can rally the troops, no problem, but try to explain how much he loves his soulmate and he's stumped. "I know you're not perfect, but who the fuck is? You think _I'm_ perfect? Don't answer that." She smiles wobbly at him. "But I don't _care_ about that. I love every part of you—doesn't matter if it's good or bad. I _love you_. With my heart and soul, I love you. I have spent three years of my life with you, Quinn Hayden," he repeats. "And I wanna spend the rest of it the same way. So, will you marry me?" 

 

"We're not at the Stork Club," she blurts and doesn't even try to stop her tears now. She drops down on her knees in front of him and reaches out to take his face in her hands. "And you're seventy years late with this, y'know," she adds tearfully. Then, she tilts her head forward so their foreheads touch. 

 

Steve laughs quietly. "That's still not an answer," he teases. 

 

"Yes, you fuckin' asshole," she answers. "Of course I'll fuckin' marry you." 

 

 

 

Even back in the bedroom, Steve could hear Miss Potts scream when Quinn broke the news to her, Tony, and Colonel Rhodes. Then, Miss Potts practically insisted that they use the private beach Tony owns for the ceremony since, at a church, the press would probably be all over the place. Steve would like to have it in a church, but he doesn't fuss and neither does Quinn. 

 

Steve woke up and didn't think he had anyone left in the world and he's happy to be proven wrong on that. There are a lot more people at their wedding than he ever expected there to be. There's the team, obviously—sans Thor. Quinn's family is there and are in tears pretty much the whole time. Steve meets Miss Josephine and her wife, Florence, for the first time. Quinn takes Peggy on as much a private walk that she can. Oh, and what's left of the Commandos are there—their kids, too, who Quinn have known all their lives.  

 

Liam walks Quinn down the aisle and she's in a plain white sundress, the same way he's in a loose white shirt and pants. They wanted to keep it simple. Even then, when she's barefoot and doesn't have an ounce of makeup on and merely has her hair pulled away from her face, she's radiant. 

 

When the priest declares them as man and wife, Quinn doesn't let Steve kiss the bride or even plant one on him herself. Rather, tearfully but with a small smile on her face, she reaches down to lace their fingers together, pulls up their joined hands between their faces, and kisses the silver band on his finger. That breaks him—he'd made it through the whole ceremony without a tear—but now there are tears in his eyes. He repeats the action. 

 

No one but them knows about the _JBB_ engraved on the inside of their wedding bands. 

 


End file.
